How to Save a Life
by trinfinity2001
Summary: After narrowly escaping a Cardassian prison, Ensign Kathryn Janeway struggles to return to normal life. As she falls deeper in love with Lieutenant Justin Tighe, the Starfleet officer who helped her escape, what she learns about her mission will challenge her faith in those closest to her, and ultimately her faith in Starfleet itself. Set after Justin's revelation in 'Mosaic.'
1. So now you tell me

"I just knew I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

Justin's words hung in the air between them. In that instant her heart was in her throat. He was attracted to her, cared about her. To think about all of the bullshit over the last six months—

"How…how long?" she blurted out, and instantly regretted it. _Dammit, why do I always have to understand why? _Kathryn thought.

"How long have I been attracted to you?" he asked her, expression still cool, calm and collected.

She nodded. The sound of her own heartbeat hammered in her ears.

"Since the first day we worked together," he said simply. The admission seemed to come easily, and yet she noticed he didn't move closer to her. He stayed frozen in place like he wasn't sure how she was going to react.

It dawned on her that he wasn't sure she felt the same way he did.

Those piercing blue eyes stayed fixed on her as he continued. "You knew what you wanted and weren't going to stop until you got it. Nothing scared you. Not even me." An expression she'd never seen from him settled on his face, and it took her a moment to recognize it. After months of seeing nothing but anger, annoyance and condemnation, she now saw awe.

Her fingertips began to tingle that old, familiar, dangerous tingle. And yet, it suddenly didn't seem so dangerous anymore.

_Snap out of it, Kathryn!, _a small voice inside her cried. Those eyes of his were hypnotic, goddammit, and there was more she needed to know, something that just didn't make sense. If he admired her so much… "So every time you chastised me for an inconsequential mistake in the lab, gave me an assignment with an impossible deadline, handed me busywork…?"

Justin rested his arms on his thighs and stared at the floor. An audible sigh escaped his lips. If she wasn't mistaken, he sounded...disappointed?

After a moment, his head snapped up and he spoke again. "I was waiting for you to fail. Honestly, I was hoping for it. I wanted some reason, _any _reason to dislike you. But you never gave me one. Every problem I gave you, you solved. Every challenge I laid down, you rose to it. And each time it just…made me more attracted to you. I…" he paused, and swallowed hard before continuing. "I needed some distance between us if I was going to get through the year, working that closely with you."

She was instantly all-too-conscious of her own body. Righteous indignation mixed intoxicatingly with pure, carnal attraction. _He couldn't admit his attraction to me and so my career paid the price?, _She thought angrily. _Do I scream at him or grab him and kiss him?_

Tighe continued his explanation. "Demanding perfection from you was the only way I could see to keep you at arm's length and still help you make the most of our work together. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be the mentor you wanted."

_Oh, _she thought meekly_._

"Lieutennant—"

"Justin," he corrected.

"Justin," she responded, sobering slightly. "I didn't want a mentor, Justin. I wanted an equal. To be treated as an equal," she quickly added.

A look of confusion flashed across his face. "You were."

Her indignation reared its head again. "No I wasn't. You hardly let me do anything."

The disappointment was showing clearly on his face now, self-reflected, cold and critical. "I'm sorry. Please know that I never thought you were incapable or beneath me. Quite the opposite, in fact. As to how I treated you…like I said, I'm used to doing everything on my own. _Everything_, Ensign."

"Kathryn," she breathed.

He nodded this time, appreciative that the walls were coming down between them, even if they were still quibbling. "Kathryn," he corrected. "For what it's worth...I know what you're capable of, Kathryn. I know that you're _more _than capable; I happen to think you're brilliant. But everything I got in life, I got the hard way. And it _worked_. It's the only way I know how to learn. It's also the only way I know how to teach. I will try to do better."

And so it was simple, she realized. He had been trying, as best he could, in his own way. A familiar look of determination settled on his face. He seemed genuinely remorseful for the way he'd treated her. Knowing how walled off and guarded he was, this was probably as much of an apology and a promise to change as she figured she would get for the moment. There would be time for more.

Until then, there was something else she needed to know. Something he had mentioned at the beginning. "Justin, you…did you really think I would be scared of you?"

He shrugged. "I'm a lot to handle for most people. Life made me rough around the edges in a way most people in Starfleet aren't used to. And you…" he hesitated.

"Yes?"

"You're Starfleet royalty. Daughter of an Admiral? Prized mentee of another?"

Kathryn guffawed. "What did you think, I'd walk on board with a silver spoon hanging out of my mouth?"

He smiled at the image and crossed his arms, leaning back casually on the couch. "So you do have a sense of humor."

She couldn't help but smirk. "Occasionally I let it out of its cage."

He smirked in return and her heart swelled. In the last fifteen minutes she'd seen a wider range of facial expressions and emotions from him than she recalled seeing in the entire previous six months combined. Her whole body was singing.

"I didn't get to work under Admiral Paris by pulling strings, Justin," she explained, her tone turning serious, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. "I had to work twice as hard as anyone else simply _because _of whose daughter I am. Everyone always assumed that what I had in life had been handed to me. I was determined to show them they were wrong."

"Who?" he asked.

This question left her stumped for a moment, and she reached for the obvious but cliche'd response. "Well, the world, I suppose."

He smiled appreciatively. "I understand that feeling." They had reached a détente, and the conversation had come to a lull. Kathryn noticed that her body's earlier commentary on Justin's revelation had quieted down. She wondered how he was feeling and reacting in that moment with the two of them sitting so close. The armchair and the couch seemed just centimeters apart, and yet there still seemed so much space between them-in every way possible.

"Anyways," he continued, "to answer your question, I knew you were smart. _Very _smart, according to your service record. But I also expected you to be a very spoiled little girl, with a gorgeous and brainless guy on each arm. Someone like that wasn't going to deal well with how intense I can be." Her eyebrows went up. _Intense _was certainly the word for it, she realized as he continued. "People don't stand their ground with me, Kathryn," he explained. "They run. It's a trait that happens to make me very good at my job. But you didn't run. That was intoxicating. I wanted more. So I kept raising the bar."

This comment stung. She suddenly felt used in a way that was hard to describe and yet surprisingly familiar. "You baited me?" It wasn't a question, but an accusation.

He opened both hands in reluctant acknowledgement. "I wanted to see when you'd give up with me, yes. I expected you to run to Admiral Paris, demanding a transfer to another department or a different lab partner. At the least I figured you would shut down and stop interacting with me. I didn't expect you to be so…"

This fill-in-the-blank was obvious, as the word had been applied to her all her life. "Stubborn?"

He smiled. "I was thinking _tough_." The smile stayed on his face for a moment, then disappeared. "And as I learned yesterday, tougher than I am. " Hesitantly, he reached out for her hand, and she let him take it. "You saved my life, Kathryn."

Her mouth had gone dry, and the words seemed to have evaporated with her saliva. Desperately, she reached for a response. "I was just doing my job…" she whispered, failing to find the right words, and so echoing the ones he'd spoken to her just minutes earlier. He smiled again, a smile that just made her want to melt into a puddle on the deck.

"Admiral Paris seemed to think it was more than that," he responded.

Amusement rose in her this time, hearing her own words parroted back. "Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?" she asked.

His face became quite serious again. "Not at all. He's been encouraging me to pursue you for months." Now _this _came as a surprise, and she couldn't hide the shock on her face. Justin's expression hadn't changed and she knew that he meant what he'd said.

"Admiral Paris. _Admiral Paris _encouraged you to pursue me?" Suddenly it made sense why the Admiral had been trying to put Justin's more challenging behaviors over the last six months in a positive light.

Justin's eyes darted up to the corner of the ceiling as he recalled the conversation. "I believe the Admiral's words were, 'I think you would appreciate Ensign Janeway's company, Lieutenant.'" Justin's eyes twinkled as they met hers.

"Well, I'll be damned." From the Admiral, 'appreciating one's company' was a bloody endorsement.

"If this is what we choose, as long as we're discreet, I don't think we need to be concerned about protocol. We have our XO's approval," he said. A long pause filled the air. "Is it…what you'd choose?"

She wanted to say yes. Yet their relationship had been so contentious and she wasn't sure she could see that changing. "But we fight like cats and dogs," she countered.

"Disagreements between two strong-minded individuals," he explained. "We're talking now. We weren't before and that was my fault. You were trying. I wasn't."

He stood up and extended his hand. She looked up at him as he towered over her. Placing her hand in his, he pulled her up out of the chair and they were face-to-face for the first time since the woods on Urtea II. It seemed to her like the air between them was on fire, their bodies only inches apart. Her heart pounded and blood roared in her ears.

"Are you willing to keep trying?" he asked.

She'd spoken her reply before she even realized it.

"Yes."

Time seemed almost to stop as he leaned down, expression unchanged, and gently laid his lips on hers. His arms cradled her, and they kissed, one, two, three, times, and then so many times she lost count.

Finally, after several minutes had gone by, he came up to breathe. She joined him, flushed.

It was he who spoke first. "I want so much more, Kathryn. But it wouldn't be fair to you. I've laid a lot on you tonight. Maybe we should get to know each other a bit more first."

By now Kathryn was sure that he too felt the magnetic pull of the other room in his quarters. He was completely right and she knew it. Diving into bed could only lead to heartache. She nodded her agreement silently.

"Tomorrow?" he asked, hope abounding in his voice. "Since we've both been put on leave for the next few days, what would you say to spending part of the day together?"

Dragging her mind out of his bedroom, she asked, "What did you have in mind?"

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowed in consideration, then responded after a beat. "How does a nice relaxing hike sound to you? Followed by dinner?"

"That sounds lovely," she said. _Lovely_ didn't seem the right word for it. _Perfect_ seemed closer to the truth.

"Then I'll see you at 1300 hours tomorrow," he said. "I'll let you know which holodeck."

"How should I dress?"

"Hm," he thought, considering. "Layers. For Spring, Summer and Winter."

This piqued her interest. "All three?" He nodded.

"In one hike?" she asked. Now she was curious about where they were going.

He nodded again, that lovely smile lighting up his face again. "In one hike."

Normally she would've wanted to ask a dozen questions about their destination, but for the first time in a long time she felt content to be pleasantly surprised. Instead she answered, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

A curt nod was all she received in acknowledgement, and she turned to head out the door. She stopped just before walking through the aperture.

"Good night, Justin."

"Good night, Kathryn." He tapped the wall keypad and the doors parted. She stepped out in the corridor. Before she could turn around, they hissed closed.

Walking down the corridor back to her quarters, it was as if her fingertips were being magnetically pulled to her lips. Each time—and it must've been a half dozen—she pulled her hand away, clasping the offending hand in another behind her back, trying to restrain herself. But each time, one of her hands returned to her lips, as if trying to feel him there again.

_What a mind job. Two days ago I hated him_, she mused. _Now…? _And yet it all made sense. Their attraction had been so intense, so immediate, that to have given into it without first truly understanding each other could've proved catastrophic. As much as her body was screaming _Turn around now, don't walk, run back to his quarters and jump the man's bones!—_she was grateful he'd asked to take it slow. Breaking out of their old familiar patterns was going to be _hard_. Rock hard, chewing on pearls hard. The vulnerability he'd shown tonight had been astonishing yet it wasn't something he had offered up to her. Kathryn had had to drag it out of him, to prove to him that he could trust her. She'd had to prove to him that she wouldn't hurt him.

The thought was achingly familiar. _When you are used to having nothing to lose, it doesn't make you reckless, _she thought, _it makes you downright paranoid you could lose what little does fall into your lap. _

She knew she could say the same about herself. Any other woman, she figured, would be thrilled to have just been told by a handsome, intelligent, courageous man that he was attracted to her and wanted a relationship. Feeling the bottom drop out from under her when he admitted his interest, yes, that seemed normal. But what what exactly was she so terrified of? That this would end in pain? That she wouldn't be good enough? That he wouldn't be around, or he'd pick his work over her, or he'd leave?

_Check, check, check, check and check, _she thought.

Back in her bed in her quarters, she drifted off to sleep, nagged by the thought that the answer was far more simple.


	2. Damn, that hurts

The next day, Kathryn Janeway stood outside of Holodeck One dressed in three layers of hiking gear that she'd replicated that morning. A small backpack filled with picnic basics was slung over her back, holocamera tucked inside as an afterthought. Excitement and anxiety competed for space in her mind. _We're just going for a walk_, she tried to remind herself. _A really long walk._

She reached out to the access panel, took a deep breath, and punched in the code he'd given her.

The doors opened on a large chalet nestled in a valley surrounded by small mountains. Had he taken her to Switzerland? Her eyes swept the horizon as she took in the view of grass-covered rolling hills, snow-capped peaks and a beautiful lake that reflected the pale midday sun.

"Hello."

Kathryn spun around to see Justin Tighe as she'd never seen him: relaxed, excited and dare she say…happy? She had thought the uniform fit him like a glove; she had been wrong. Wearing a fitted dark blue t-shirt that matched his eyes, shorts and hiking boots, he seemed not just formidable but also downright _edible_. The man was clearly in his element.

"Hi," she managed, trying not to gawk. "This is stunning. Where are we?"

"Northern Montana. Glacier Park. Ever heard of it?"

"Of course," she answered. She wanted to explain how she knew about the park but full sentences now seemed impossible to put together. The wind was ruffling Justin's hair, taking him from _downright edible _to _outright delectable_ and she thought she was going to go out of her mind. Kathryn found herself feeling suddenly weak in the knees and tingly in the fingers. _Words, Kathryn,_ she thought. _Use your words. And your brain. Preferably not in that order. _

Instead, she looked around, trying to give herself an excuse to take her eyes off him and calm down. She knew that this park was home to some of the most famous hiking trails in North America although the teal blue glacial lakes that had made the park famous no longer existed. This being the holodeck, though, anything was possible. "Is this before or after climate change destroyed the glaciers?" she asked.

This comment made him smile though she had no idea why. "Long before," he answered. "It's from around 1920, right after it was made a park but before it was overwhelmed by tourists."

So there would be glaciers, which explained the layers of clothing he'd suggested she pack. "What's the hike?" she asked, still curious.

"We have some choices, but I figured, if you're up for it…" he paused, and was that hope she saw on his face? "My favorite is fifteen and a half kilometers round-trip. It's a 388-meter elevation gain." She noticed his pack, twice the size of hers, had two sets of hiking poles strapped to the underside. He was ready for a challenging climb and had come prepared for both of them.

_Only a Starfleet Ranger would genuinely consider 15 kilometers straight up a mountain a 'relaxing' hike, _she thought. "Do we have a particular destination?" she asked.

"A little place called Iceberg lake."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "There are actually icebergs?" she asked.

He shrugged. "More like big chunks of ice floating in a small swimming hole." Now it was her turn to shrug. The whole thing sounded fascinating. She'd never shied away from physical exertion before and now seemed a silly time to start. Her decision was made.

"Iceberg Lake it is," she confirmed. "Shall we?"

He extended his hand. "Please."

The first leg of their journey took them up gentle hills that reminded her of meadows. Wildflowers of all kinds and colors blossomed on the trail's edge. A pleasant breeze tickled Kathryn's legs and bare arms, one hand steadied by a hiking pole, the other by Justin's hand. She was glad he'd picked a hike. It gave her something to look at, something to focus on, other than just the overwhelming awareness of his body next to hers and her hand in his.

Their pace was easy. More than three hours out to the lake would give them plenty of time to talk. How he'd snagged the holodeck for the whole day, she had no idea. Had Admiral Paris had some role in that, too? Did it even matter anymore?

No, she realized, it didn't. She had time now, and opportunity, to get to know someone who in reality was still a complete stranger to her. Where to start? "You told me you grew up on Klatus Prime," she began, leading with the question that seemed most obvious to her in the moment. "How did you get so familiar with Glacier Park?"

"My first year roommate at the Academy was a distant relative of a United States Park Serviceman and had a life goal to visit all of the parks. There were almost 500 of them at one point, so he had his work cut out for him. During our Fall break he invited me along to this one. It became one of my favorite places on Earth, even without the glaciers."

"And this program?" she asked vaguely, looking around.

"Came from the Park's historical collections."

She looked around again, appreciating the level of detail. "It's spectacular."

He nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. It's a shame humans didn't realize the damage we were doing to this planet sooner, we might have been able to save the glaciers. The lake we'll see today hasn't existed this way in 300 years."

"Did you visit any of the other parks with your roommate?" she asked.

Justin shook his head. "By midway through the year our schedules had gotten too busy to sync up. And…" He looked away from her, up at the sky and his surroundings before meeting her eyes again. "Group hikes weren't my thing. I liked being alone." His hand seemed heavy in hers.

"Thank you for bringing me, then," she said, quietly.

Justin smiled. "My pleasure." She knew his response was genuine. A beat passed before he continued. "I did go through part of my roommate's list, though, but on my own. Before I graduated from the Academy I had hiked Yellowstone, Zion, Badlands, Yosemite, Shennandoah, Acadia, Grand Teton. I celebrated my graduation by hiking the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim."

"All on your own?" she asked, trying to keep too much shock from showing on her face.

He nodded, and the look on his face said, _Yeah, why not? _Kathryn was taken aback. For someone who was truly such a loner, she felt the need to apologize for intruding on a deeply private and personal experience. Instead she asked, "Which was your favorite?"

He responded instantly. "Grand Canyon. The silence was deafening. I've never heard anything like it. And the canyons reminded me of the mines back home, but warmer. Not just the temperatures, but the colors, too. I found it comforting."

In an instant Kathryn was taken back in her mind to being nine years old and hiking the North Rim with her father. She recalled it being dusty, too dusty for her Midwestern tastes, and never returned. Justin was starting to make her reconsider that decision.

Now, walking along side him, seeing him smile and laugh and finding herself doing the same, she was realizing one thing: he was making her rethink a lot of decisions.

Grassy hillsides gave way to lush forests as they walked. Around the second hour, the trail flattened above a set of waterfalls and they stopped to recharge and refuel. They shared food and wine and quiet conversation as they sat on a rocky precipice. Legs dangling over the edge as water cascaded below them, Kathryn silently noticed their booted feet. With six kilometers under their belts on an increasingly rocky trail, her ankles were beginning to feel the strain that even the stiff boots couldn't compensate for. She smelled the damp earth and took in the trees all around her.

Suddenly her mind flashed back to a mere forty-eight hours earlier, falling over the body of the man next to her on Urtea II, his ankle broken when he'd caught it on a tree root. Images flooded into her memory in their own waterfall-like cascade: his desperate pleas for her to flee, the Gul punching her in the head, smashing the Toskanar dog in the skull with the branch, hearing Admiral Paris's screams, Justin's broken ankle—

"Kathryn."

She looked up from her feet to see Justin sitting next to her, blue eyes seemingly glowing within his pale face, dark hair floppy on his head. "Are you okay?" he asked, a look of concern etched within his handsome features.

"Huh? Oh, nothing," she lied. "How's your ankle?"

His concerned look changed to one of skepticism but he answered her anyways. "The doctor regenerated the bone and muscle completely. No problems." Ever since the tissue regenerator had been developed and perfected even compound fractures could be restored to virtually pre-injury conditions in minutes. But Kathryn knew that didn't mean everything was okay.

"Yes," she countered, "but I broke my arm playing tennis a decade ago and I can still use this appendage to predict the weather." She held up her right arm and pointed to it. He laughed.

"Tennis?" he asked. It seemed like he'd never heard of the old-fashioned sport but at that moment his curiosity was a distraction.

"Stop dodging the question, Justin. Does your ankle feel okay?"

His lips flattened into a straight line. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

Kathryn instantly recognized his euphemistic use of the word 'fine,' having used the word that way herself more times than she could count. What she wasn't sure about was whether to nudge him gently or confront him more directly about any discomfort. She looked at him, took in his set jaw and noted the steely blue that his eyes had turned. She opted for a soft tone.

"I'm sure it's 'fine,' but maybe I genuinely want to know how you're doing? It was a horrible break, Justin."

"No kidding," he admitted. "But it's really fine. I wouldn't have suggested we go hiking if it weren't." There was that word again. Kathryn put her hands on her hips, letting him know that she wasn't going anywhere until he stopped sugar coating the truth. He frowned in response. "Alright, it's a little tender. That's all."

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Really?"

"Really," he replied, and this time she believed him. "And besides, if I needed to I could ice it down right up there." He pointed up the hill, and she followed his arm, leaning, now seeing what he was looking at. Around the bend, the brown of the forested trail opened up into an open field—of snow.

Kathryn looked back at him, not sure whether to glare or laugh. She decided on the second. He smiled.

"And now, you're going to tell me what you were flashing back to."

The smile vanished from her face. "I'm fine," she replied tartly. There was that word again.

His response was quick and firm but compassionate. "No dodging. I know damn well you're not fine. I've been there, remember? What _were_ you remembering?"

She stared out at the waterfalls, watching the water crash over the brink. The sound was suddenly deafening in her ears.

"Everything," she whispered, so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her. In a hollow voice she rattled off the list.

He nodded, staring off into the distance as well. "What were you looking at when it started? That seemed a strange question to her but she answered him anyways.

"Your ankle. And then…the dirt, the trees in the distance." She turned to him, and he to her. "I went through nothing like you did, Justin," she said desperately. "It's not even right that this is bothering me."

He turned to her and took her face in his hands. "That's exactly what they want you to think. Listen to me. It wasn't what they did to you that was the problem. It's what you knew they could've done to you. As long as you're living in fear, they've won. The only way to get past this is to know that you don't have anything to be afraid of anymore." He dropped his hands, but one hand stayed to stroke her hair.

She hung her head. "We haven't been recalled from our mission, Justin," she choked, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away but continued to look at the rock they sat on. "We'll be on the edge of Cardassian space for six more months. And if we go to war—"

"That's a lot of ifs," he countered. "And typically in these situations they do recall everyone involved."

Her head snapped up at these words. "They're probably working on it now," he soothed, his tone making her think he was speaking from prior experience. "It takes a few days for the orders to come through, especially if they have to conceal a covert operation like this was."

"They _typically _recall everyone involved? Just _typically?_" She asked. "And if they don't?"

He reached an index finger up to the corner of her eye and swept away the moisture that had collected there. She turned her head away, ashamed. "Then we keep going," he said matter-of-factly, as if this were a simple thing to do.

Kathryn whipped her head back around and looked at him desperately. "How? You've faced them twice. Nearly died at their hands, twice," she said. "I don't know how you keep going back in. I don't know how you volunteered for this mission in the first place, Justin."

He sighed. "It's difficult, I can't pretend it's not. I have to remind myself that what happened to me had nothing to do with who I am. The Cardassians didn't want me. They never will_._ They didn't want you, either. Or Admiral Paris._"_

_Kathryn klein, ging allein, in die weite Welt hinein…_Kathryn could hear the words of the lullaby again, the one she'd sung at the top of her lungs, fingers in her ears as she lay curled up on the cold, damp floor of the Cardassian cell, desperate to block out Admiral Paris's screams, knowing that his torturers didn't care about the information he had, or who he was, and that they were only inflicting pain on him because they could.

"Kathryn?"

"Huh?" She looked around at the waterfalls and the forest, having forgotten where she was, and realized she'd spaced out again.

"You left me for a minute there," he said matter-of-factly.

"I guess I did," she admitted.

"I'm assuming it wasn't a fun mental vacation?"

"No," she grumbled.

He gestured to the thermos she had brought with her, thoughtfully filled that morning with her favorite wine. He uncapped it, poured it into the cups they had with them and handed her one. He took a slow, contemplative drink for himself, staring at the cup as if it held answers to questions they both had. After a swallow, he looked up at her and spoke again. "They're going to compel you to do therapy when you get back to headquarters. Much as I hate to admit it, it actually works. Even though the therapists are completely full of it."

This made her laugh, though the idea of mandatory therapy didn't. He took another sip. She finally began to drink the cool liquid. "What were you thinking of just now?" he asked.

"Nothing," she retorted.

"Stop it, Kathryn. You dissociated. I'm the one person you can't fool."

"Lose the psychobabble, Tighe."

"Get used to it, Janeway. Now talk."

She tipped her chin up defiantly. He inclined his head and rested his cup on his knee. "If you think I'm being difficult," he said patiently, "wait until you're stuck with a Betazoid counselor who won't let you have your job back until you open up."

"I'll take my chances," she bit back.

He drummed his fingers on the side of the cup he held, as if deciding his next move. A moment passed before he continued. "Kathryn, I believe you've heard these words before: 'I genuinely want to know how you're doing.' Please talk to me."

She stayed silent. It seemed deeply ironic to her that a man who mostly lived in his own head was imploring her to open up to him. She could laugh. And cry.

"Fine," he said, and sat his cup down on the rock. He took hers from her hand and sat it down as well. Gently, he took her face in his hands again and before she realized what was happening he had kissed her. And then he kissed her again. And then again. Gone were thoughts of Cardassian torture, replaced with wonderment at how incredibly _good_ he was at kissing. That and the fact that she was glad she'd filled her spare bottle with the good Chablis and shared it when they'd stopped to snack. He really did taste downright edible.

He pulled away and looked her right in the eyes. "They didn't give a damn about you, Kathryn Janeway. But I do. Don't forget that." He downed the rest of his wine, closed the thermos, and tucked everything back in her backpack. Then he shifted on the precipice and made to stand up.

Kathryn suddenly heard herself singing. "Kathryn klein, ging allein, in die weite Welt hinein…" Justin paused halfway to his feet, confused.

She looked up at him and explained. "I sang it, at the top of my lungs, fingers in my ears, trying to keep from hearing the Admiral's screams. By then I'd figured out that they didn't care what we were going to tell them. It was all a bloody power trip and they were only trying to break him. And that when it was my turn it would be the same with me."

He sat back down.

A moment passed as he looked back out over the waterfall. "How much did Admiral Paris tell you about what happened to me two years ago?"

"Just that you were tortured constantly for three days." The thought made her feel physically ill.

"What do you think that means?" he asked, still staring out at the water.

"I'm assuming you and the Admiral had the same device implanted in you."

He snorted. "No," he corrected forcefully. "Admiral Paris gave me too much credit letting you think that, and he shouldn't have. The device hadn't been invented yet. That only came along last year." A long pause, and she could see him contemplating how much to he wanted to tell her. "What they did to me was nothing more and nothing less than pain for pain's sake, injury for injury's sake. The Cardassians don't care if kill you but they sure want to make you feel dead. It's the cruelest power trip in the universe. That, we all endured."

He turned to her. "You asked me how I could go back in? The Cardassians who do this are evil, Kathryn, pure and simple. How can I turn down a responsibility to protect us from evil? That's a calling, Kathryn. _That_ makes me feel alive. Find the things that make you feel alive and the Cardassians will never be able to hold you captive again."

He leaned over and kissed her again, so light on her lips he almost wasn't touching her. Then he stood and offered her his hand. "Let's go," he encouraged. "We're almost there." Kathryn belatedly realized she wasn't sure if he was referring to their recovery or the hike. She took his hand gently, as if receiving the peculiar gift of words which she had been given, knowing it would be a long time until she could unwrap their meaning.

Kathryn had thought she was in good shape. She was pleased to realize that at least physically, she was right.

The hiking poles Justin brought had proven a necessity for both of them. Crossing a glacier was something she'd never done before and it was _work_. She found it a challenging combination that required navigating sections of alternating loose powder and slippery ice. Their destination must be quite special, she figured, to be worth this trek.

They hadn't talked much during the final stretch. As they both focused more on their footing, Kathryn was glad for the lack of time to think. She did note with some envy that while she was beginning to break a sweat, Justin wasn't even breathing hard. A field of ice and snow unfolded ahead of them, and then behind them, and then they began to crest a bright white hill.

Then, she finally saw it: a wall of rock, perhaps 100 meters high, shaped like a half-moon, rising from the ground. With each step she could finally see a little more of what they had climbed all this way to visit.

The lake.

Hunks of white ice, some almost a half meter across, some just the size of ice cubes, bobbed peacefully in an enormous stone bowl of teal water. One could easily compare it to a crater-made lake, but she knew better. The silence was overwhelmingly peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that one only finds around snow and it took her breath away.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Justin whispered. She'd almost forgotten he was next to her.

"It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it," she said. She took his hand and held it in hers. Her blue eyes found his. "Thank you. For bringing me here. Sharing this with me." She edged up on to her tiptoes and touched her forehead to his, letting her eyes drift closed. Their lips were drawn to each other like magnets. Slow, easy kisses became faster, more heated. Hands wandered.

Suddenly he pulled himself away, gasping for breath, still holding on to her hand.

"Not here," he protested, his breathing rough and ragged. "Don't get me wrong, the answer would be yes, but not right now. Not right here. Not on our first date." His eyes were wide and feral and his chest rose and fell visibly. She had to work to control her own breathing, to dam up the tidal wave of chemicals that suddenly coarsed through her veins. Goddamn it, she wanted him.

Instead she swallowed hard and nodded. Again, he was right. It was impossible in this moment not to think back to Cheb, and all of the simulations he'd felt the need to recreate as a backdrop for what could have been called anything but lovemaking. He'd bullied her into everything and she'd never stopped regretting it. "You're right. The holodeck is for teenagers," she commented absentmindedly.

"You deserve better, Kathryn," he said. What was that she saw in his eyes?

Oh, right. _Respect. _

_Maybe I debased myself before_, she thought with determination, _but now's my chance to get it right._ She could wait. She straightened up and tilted her head up to kiss him again, a chaste kiss that was nothing more than a promise. "Later," she whispered.

"Thank you," he breathed, and kissed her hand. The moment of tension broken, he shrugged off his backpack, opened it and removed two thermal blankets.

Kathryn was intrigued. "Another picnic?" she asked.

"No," he said to her, and then called out a command to the ship. "Computer, disengage safety protocols."

Suddenly worried, she asked, "What are you doing?"

His expression and his words were calm. "Mind if I go for a swim?"

There was no way to hide the shock on her face and she choked on the words in her reply. "A _swim?"_

"Just a quick dip. Very quick. Thirty seconds. Would that bother you?"

Kathryn thought back to her second-year roommate at the Academy, a tall, athletic woman from Sweden named Ritva, who commented frequently about missing the ice baths that were famous in her home town, claiming that they improved her mood and energized her. With her busy schedule, Kathryn had been disappointed that she'd never had the chance to take Ritva up on her invitation to visit the baths.

Now seeing a lake of ice water in person, she wasn't sure what the appeal for Ritva had been, and was caught between her own curiosity about the experience and downright squalid terror about jumping into a lake that was barely above freezing. "I'm not particularly feeling like reenacting the sinking of the Titanic, today, thanks. I'll stay out here where it's warm…er. Don't let me stop you."

"What's the Titanic?" he asked as he unfolded the two blankets.

She shook her head, laughing dismissively. "Nevermind." She watched as he put his hands on his hips and stared out at the water, clearly preparing himself for the leap of faith. "Do you do this every time you come here?" she asked.

He looked back at her and shook his head. "Not every time. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it. I always come prepared though." _He came prepared with two sets of hiking poles,_ she thought. _Why didn't he warn me about this part? _

"What mood do you need to be in?" she asked.

He paused, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell her. "I need to feel alive."

_Oh._

In spite of all of his bravado, his appearance of having mastered the path back to normal life, everything that had happened on Urtea II was still bothering him, too. _Why hadn't that been obvious? _Kathryn thought.

Justin sat down and removed his hiking boots, socks, then detached the length of the legs from his pants, leaving him in the shorts he'd worn at the beginning of the hike. He stood up and peeled off his shirt.

Kathryn felt faint. The man could be a perfect anatomist's model. He was skin, muscle, bone, and, she thought, pure perfection. Strong arms, strong chest, strong _everything_-

"It's not polite to stare," he commented with amusement in his voice and a smile on his face.

She averted her eyes, embarrassed, feeling a flush creep across her pale cheeks, and bit her lip. If this was how she was handling seeing him shirtless, she felt certain she would die when she finally saw him wearing nothing. She was just fine with that.

"Just get in the water, Justin, before I lose my mind." He grinned. She loved seeing him smile. She loved seeing him happy.

He called out another command to the ship. "Computer, disengage holodeck audio warnings for 60 seconds."

The computer verified his command, clear voice stating, "Warnings disengaged."

His eyebrows danced up in anticipation. "Back in a minute." He pivoted, and so did her desires.

"Wait," she said, and started shrugging off layers, then sitting down and yanking off her boots.

He looked at her, confused. "What are you doing?"

A boot dropped on the ground. "What does it look like? I've decided to join you." He looked taken aback. She reached down and zipped off her pant legs, leaving her in shorts.

He eyed her warily. "You're sure?"

Kathryn paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain her thinking. "You told me the only way past these damn flashbacks is to stop living in fear. Well, I'm damned afraid of jumping into a lake that's 3 degrees. But I want to, so I'll try."

The comment sank in. For a moment he didn't say anything, expression unreadable.

She took a deep breath then nodded. His blue eyes shone, holding her gaze. She wasn't an expert yet at reading all of the new emotions she was seeing on his face, but this one looked a lot like pride. It pleased her.

She took one look at the water and stripped down to her standard-issue workout bra.

"Kathryn…" he muttered.

"Consider it revenge," she smirked. "And don't blame me for this, blame whoever designed our uniforms." He rolled his eyes and laughed.

She'd begun to shiver as she took a deep breath and looked at the icy water in front of her toes. There was nothing left to do but stare her fear in the face.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. They jumped hand-in-hand into the water.

It hit her like fire. She broke through the surface and could barely draw in a gasp. Fire wasn't right; it was more like getting stabbed by a million pins and needles all at once. Or maybe a million knives. Or laser scalpels. Either way, it was horrible. Horrible and thrilling all at once.

Kathryn forced her suddenly immobile limbs to move and began treading water before swinging her head around to look at Justin, her hair spraying water everywhere.

"Holy Mother of God this is cold!" she yelled.

Justin laughed. "Hurts like hell, right?" She tried to nod and could barely. He laughed. "Give it a few seconds, it'll start to feel hot." She exhaled sharply and could see her breath on the water. A tennis ball-sized chunk of ice floated between them. Justin extended an index finger and poked at it, sending it bobbing on its way farther into the lake, laughing with what Kathryn realized was an almost childlike mirth. He looked back at her, that mirth still evident. The hand that had just dispatched a miniature iceberg re-emerged from the water, and slowly, up to her face. Gently he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Feeling warm yet?"

Suddenly remembering to listen to her body, she realized that she was indeed feeling warm. "Y-y-yes," she said, teeth chattering. This just made him grin more broadly.

"Out we go, then." He put his hand between her shoulder blades and encouraged her forward. While she was still feeling for purchase on the edge of the rocks, he practically leapt out of the water and extended both hands to her. Grasping them, he hauled her out. He bent down and grabbed a thermal blanket and draped it over her before grabbing one for himself.

"That was wonderful," she said, smiling around chattering teeth.

He looked at her hopefully. "You enjoyed it?"

"I d-d-did." Another small laugh escaped his lips and he pulled her close to him, wrapping his blanket around them both. They stayed like that, neither feeling the need to say anything. Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head on his chest as they stood, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

"Why aren't you shivering?" she asked.

"I grew up in a cold place," he said simply. "I'm used to it. You, on the other hand, don't look too comfortable."

She noticed she was still shivering. She'd forgotten to think about her own body, still being wrapped in his. "It's my hair," she muttered, reaching up to touch the soaked mass on her head. "I'm always cold until this dries, which takes a lifetime."

Justin's expression changed from one of amusement to the emotionless mask she was used to seeing him wear. "You can't hike out like this."

"So turn the safeties back on," she argued. "And yes, I can. I'll be fine."

"That's only going to keep you from getting hypothermia, Kathryn. You're still shivering."

"As long as I don't get hypothermia, I don't really care if I'm shivering. I have three layers of clothes I can put back on. I'll warm up on the hike back."

He looked at her and saw a fundamental shift in his demeanor. "I'm not going to have you shivering cold for three hours." He looked up and spoke a command. "Computer, begin scene 2."

Kathryn felt bewildered as the glacier vanished around her.

The scene changed to the lobby of a beautiful hotel overlooking an enormous glacial lake. Evening sunset burned in reds, oranges, pinks and yellows through windows five meters high, a stunning reflection on the calm water. A sunken lounge held a small restaurant of perhaps two dozen tables, all of which were elegantly set but empty.

"Where are we now?" she asked.

"Alberta, Canada, at the Prince of Wales Hotel. Still in Glacier Park." He turned away and walked the few paces over towards a bank of cozy chairs and couches in front of a roaring fireplace and indicated one of the couches closest to the fire. "First, sit down. Let's get you warmed up before dinner."

"What about the hike?" she asked.

"We're skipping the rest of it. Now sit," he ordered.

Kathryn stared at him, unmoving, realization coalescing into a sickening knot in her stomach. She could see that it didn't matter what they had admitted to each other over the last two days. Nothing had changed between them.

The question was, could it ever?


	3. Dancing Around the Truth

Standing in the middle of the majestic holographic hotel, soaked, cold, and half-dressed, Kathryn Janeway stared down Justin Tighe.

"Kathryn, please," he begged, "I'm getting cold just looking at you. Sit." She didn't move.

He frowned. "Fine," he said calmly, and turned to shrug back into his own blue t-shirt before handing her back hers. "You'll be warmer with this," he offered. Still fuming inside, she accepted it wordlessly and shrugged it on.

_Great. Our first real fight, _she thought bitterly but reluctantly took a seat on the couch. _Might as well get comfortable. _

He joined her, but not before taking his blanket and wrapping it around her, doing so with a gentleness and a kindness that made her want to cry. That is, after she'd smack him upside the head for trying to tell her what to do yet again. Eyes the color of a midnight sky looked back at her.

"Are you okay with an early dinner?" he asked, as if nothing had happened. His disarmingly handsome face, adorably disheveled black hair and gentle smile all made her want to throw her anger and her self-respect right out that enormous picture window. _Anything you want, Justin…_

_No. _The Kathryn who dated Cheb Packer would've given in, and she'd sworn she'd left that naive young woman behind when she'd left for the Academy.

She pulled the blanket more tightly around herself as if it could protect her from his sheer force of will. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. _Bombs away_, she thought_. _

"Actually," she began, "I was okay with finishing that hike."

His expression remained unchanged. "_I_ wasn't okay with you finishing that hike," he declared flatly.

Frustration, anger, annoyance, betrayal and about a half dozen other emotions all swirled inside her in a messy, tempestuous soup. He wasn't ordering her around as he might a junior officer anymore; he was treating her like a young girl, irresponsible and unable to make her own decisions. Why?

Impulsively she lashed out, attacking the first explanation that came to mind. "Just because I'm six years younger than you doesn't mean I can't take care of myself," she snapped.

He seemed blindsided by her comment. "I didn't think it did."

"You're trying to tell me what I'm capable of again, Justin."

"Kathryn, I'm trying to take care of you. _Let me_ take care of you."

"There's chivalry and then there's treating me like a child. This is the latter," she retorted. There was absolutely no hiding the annoyance in her voice now. The challenge had become keeping her voice down something below the volume of _yelling. _

The expression on his face was one of a man who had found himself completely out of his depth. But in that enviable, frustratingly _Justin _way of his, he still seemed calm as a breezeless sea, his voice steady yet firm. "I don't understand. Kathryn, you're freezing. How is taking you someplace warm treating you like a child?"

There was no thinking needed when it came to her response. "I told you what I wanted," she said in the measured tone she'd gotten accustomed to using around him, "and as always you made your own judgment call for me anyways, Lieutenant."

He inclined his head quizzically. It took a moment for her to realize her little slip of the tongue. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. _That wasn't a little slip-up_, she thought.

Kathryn threw up her hands in frustration, explaining, "God, it's like we're back in the lab again."

Confusion played across his face for a moment, his eyes searching hers before realization dawned on him. "This is how we work," he said, blue eyes suddenly wide and aware. "This is what you hate so much about working with me."

"Hate's a little strong of a word," she countered gently, trying to soften the blow he'd dealt himself. "More like 'offends me' about working with you."

"Somehow that seems worse," he said slowly. While only a slight frown marred his face, worry had penetrated his voice in a way Kathryn was unaccustomed to hearing.

She thought back to the image of him in sickbay, watching the triage team remove his skin-tight, mud-covered body armor to reveal the few but terrible injuries the Toskanar dog had inflicted on him. Seeing those wounds, bloody and gaping, it was hard not to blame herself for them. He'd thrown himself in the path of that savage creature to protect her, something she now knew he'd done in more than just the name of duty.

But his desire to protect her somehow knew no bounds. And while that sounded romantic, in reality it was stifling, futile, even harmful. A Toskanar dog was one thing. Her own decisions, well-informed or otherwise, were another.

"Kathryn?" he asked, calling her back to the present, where he waited for her to finish her tirade.

_Dammit_, she thought, realizing what had happened_._ These memories were like quicksand, all-consuming and deep. At least this trip down memory lane had been fruitful and she knew what she needed from him. "Please don't try to protect me from myself," she begged.

His jaw was now set; he was clearly fighting the urge to say something in response and barely succeeding. They stared at each other, eyes locked in some kind of emotional combat.

"Help me understand you, Justin. I don't see why this is—"

"You're right."

He'd cut her off, which surprised her as much as it annoyed her. He was agreeing with her? She shook off the surprise as quickly as she could before this unexpected admission disarmed her.

"I know I'm right," she said petulantly. "What I don't understand is, why do you keep trying to protect _me_ from _me_?"

His silence hung heavy in the air while he considered how to respond to her. "It's not that I'm not trying to protect you from yourself, Kathryn," he finally said, "I'm just trying to protect you. Plain and simple. I'm going to be overprotective. For a while. Possibly always. I'm hardwired that way, at this point." His blue eyes were pleading though his face was his usual stoic and stern. "Let me be a little overprotective. Please."

Admiral Paris's voice still echoed in Kathryn's ears: _Lieutenant Tighe was held by the Cardassians for three days._

_Three days. _

_Three. Days. _

She had spent three _hours_ in their captivity and she felt fundamentally changed, fearful and alert on a level that didn't seem rational. Justin's watchful wariness had made him seem self-assured, confident, and so in the time she'd known him she'd sized him up as a predator.

No, that assessment had been wrong, completely wrong. That wariness, his excessive caution, his overreaction to any perceived danger-that was no empowered predator. That was the behavior of anxious prey. Just like her.

He had to understand. She was going to make him understand.

"You said that everything in life you learned the hard way," she began. "Maybe I happen to agree with you that it's a very effective way to learn." She leaned in, ready to lay down the gauntlet. "But that means I'm going to do uncomfortable things, Justin. Risky things. Painful things. I'm going to make mistakes, but I'll be damned if I won't learn from them. I didn't get where I am by playing it safe. And I certainly can't protect _myself _if I'm not given the chance to learn how to."

The expression on his face was so serious that for a moment she thought the emotionless mask he usually wore was about to slip back on. And then he nodded, somberly. "You're right again, as usual."

She practically laughed out loud. "Forgive me, but as _usual_?" Six months of constantly getting told some subtle version of 'my ideas are better, Ensign' or just 'you're just wrong, Janeway' flew in the face of this.

"Yes. At the very least, you're almost always on the right path. This is no different." Kathryn noticed the subtle implication in his comment that he should still be the one to judge when she was right or wrong. Before she could even react to that thought, he spoke again. "But this got complicated when w—"

He snapped his mouth shut, cutting himself off mid-sentence, clearly rethinking what he wanted to say. "This is one of the rough-around-the-edges parts of me, Kathryn. Give me some time."

But he had asked for time. She could only give it to him.

She straightened up in her seat, having reached a compromise with herself. "Alright. You get to be overprotective. But—" She held up a finger defiantly, laying down the law, "We're aiming for a _little_ overprotective. Let's stay on the near side of overbearing, if you could." This she said with a smile, trying to let him know that if he could relax about it, she could too.

He nodded seriously. "If you agree to call me on my bullshit, I'll do my best."

For some reason it amused her that he was cursing so casually, probably because it was such an uncharacteristic thing to see in someone so disciplined. A half-smile tugged at her lips as she replied, "You can count on it."

They'd reached an agreement; this was progress. So far their relationship was held together by a series of little formal agreements like this one. It made her wonder if they would ever be able to just _be_ with each other. But before she could even consider an answer to the question, he reached up and touched her hair. "Your hair's drying. Do you still want to finish the hike?""

"Yes," she said instantly. "I'd like to."

"Computer—"

"Later," she interrupted him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it to reassure him. "Another time. Let's come back, hike the whole thing then. It's not like this program is going to disappear. "Besides," she said, gesturing to the large lake with her chin, "this seems too lovely to want to leave now that I'm here."

He smiled knowingly. "Wait until you see the Aurora borealis once the sun sets."

This made her pull her head back in surprise. "Justin Tighe. I _never_ would've guessed you for a romantic."

Kathryn swore she the slightest blush of embarrassment on his face when he replied simply, "I guess I'm full of surprises today, Kathryn Janeway." It vanished as quickly as it appeared, but that didn't make her feel less guilty. _Note to self_, she thought, _don't point out when he's being lovey-dovey_, no matter how much she might like it.

"Dinner?" she asked instead.

"Dinner," he offered, and led her to a table.

#

The dinnertime sunset was impressive yet Kathryn barely noticed it, instead finding her attention drawn to the man who sat in front of her. They dined on steak, wild rice and vegetables as conversation flowed like a gentle brook between them, easy and quiet. That is, as long as they kept the topics firmly rooted in the last decade or so of their lives.

Kathryn had noticed earlier in the day that Justin avoided talking about home and his childhood. She managed to work out that he wasn't close to his sister, hadn't been back to Klatus Prime since starting at the Academy over a decade earlier, and as far as he was concerned 'there wasn't much to say' about the formative early years in his life. It seemed to him life started when he got to Earth at age 17.

She had however learned that once he started at the Academy he had committed himself with a laser-focus that was entirely familiar, quickly finding an aptitude for molecular engineering that he had followed with abandon. While he made no overt claims, she could tell that moving to Earth had been an uncomfortable adjustment. He filled his free time by working out his stress on a new hobby—jiu jitsu.

What he did tell her about his transition to the Rangers was that it began early. It was in those jiu-jitsu classes that he was scouted by one of the teachers, a four-armed Kiysalan woman named Edaaw, into training for the Ranger Corps. After his fourth year at the Academy he graduated into their elite ranks and had spent the eight years since in special operations.

On this topic he remained vague; Kathryn could tell that some of this haziness was because of the classified nature of the work. She wondered if he also held back because of some unimaginable toll it had taken on him. She knew what happened after his sixth year with the Rangers and didn't pry.

In spite of keeping her in the dark about his childhood-which left Kathryn to assume it was a largely negative experience but only fueled her curiosity-Justin seemed similarly disinclined to dive deep into that piece of her life. She watched his taciturn expression as she expounded on the annoyances and disappointments of her childhood and slowly began to censor herself.

A career in Starfleet had been a given for her, literally, practically since the day she was born. Throughout that journey she'd had any and all of the support she'd needed to get there. _He's right,_ she thought. _I'm spoiled. _What surprised her as they continued to talk was that this realization brought up for her not feelings of shame or guilt, but gratitude.

At the end of the meal, they passed on dessert but finished instead with their second libations of the day. As their orders arrived, she asked him about his.

"What is it?" she said, hoping to start a new conversation topic.

"You've never seen beer before?" he asked in jest.

She shot him an amused glare, but indulged him. "Oh, no, never even heard of it," she said sarcastically, then asked seriously, "What type is it?"

"A stout they've been serving for 300 years. I drink it as much for the taste as the name."

"And that name is…?"

"Moose Drool," he answered.

She laughed out loud and he rewarded her with a slight smile. "Speaking of hidden senses of humor, would you care to explain where you've been keeping yours, Justin?"

He looked briefly at the floor with a sad smile on his face, acknowledging this fact, then looked back up at her. "If you're looking for a comedian, best to look elsewhere."

Kathryn couldn't help but notice his attempt to push her away and test her interest. _Bloody hell_, she thought. _He's baiting me again._ She debated calling him on it or just playing along, and quickly decided that it wasn't worth the argument. Dinner had been too enjoyable to ruin with another fight.

"Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy?" she asked wryly, then shook her head dismissively. "Nobody's everything."

"You seem to be," he said. This confused her.

"Me? No. I could say that of you, though. Engineer, Ranger, did I read that you're a pilot too?"

He shrugged. "Other duties as assigned. Last time I checked, you have a Ph.D. and dance in your spare time. I'd say that makes you something of a renaissance woman."

This left her flabbergasted, slack-jawed. The first one was in her service record but she shared the second with no one. She'd quit tennis after high school but privately had returned to ballet after realizing that the workout required to dance on pointe was unmatched and kept her strong yet lithe. Even Parises' Squares didn't keep her in the shape that barre work did. More personally, she found it to be a rare artistic outlet and antidote to the stresses of her life. But it was an archaic hobby, one she still felt she lacked the skill to be proud of and so told not a soul, keeping her pointe shoes in a discrete backpack that she took to the holodeck twice a week.

She sat stunned and speechless for a moment before asking, "How did you know I dance?"

"I happened to see your feet when we got out of the lake. Nobody on Earth these days lets their feet stay like that unless there's a good reason."

Dancing the _Dying Swan _well was a goal she was still working towards and its intense pointe work had left her feet in less than perfect shape. Every doctor she'd encountered had offered to repair the damage, but she'd learned that her feet had made their ugly adaptions so she could stand on her toes when she wanted to. Who was ever going notice her feet, she'd thought?

Evidently, him. She sat back in her chair. "You're very observant," she said.

Piercing blue eyes blinked back at her. "It's my—"

"Job," they finished in unison, and then both chuckled.

"So, ballet, I'm guessing?" he asked.

"How do you know this?" she asked, not only confused about how they'd arrived at this line of conversation, but that he was actively pursuing it. His overwhelming masculinity seemed completely incongruous with anything even vaguely related to ballet.

"My second year roommate at the Academy was from Russia," he explained. "His girlfriend was a ballerina with the Bolshoi. I'm not sure which he talked about more, her or ballet." He practically groaned, and this made her laugh.

"You had unusual roommates," she noted.

He shrugged. "You never answered my question, though," he reminded her.

"Yes to ballet," she answered somewhat reluctantly, as if giving up a private piece of herself she'd never get back. "Balanchine, to be specific, since I'm going to hazard a guess that you actually know the difference between styles." It seemed absurd that he cared. She was thrown back in time to her blind date with Wil Riker, where she'd tried to scare him off with dry exposition about her thesis topic only to find that not only was he interested, he actually knew about it.

But Justin shook his head. "I only know that my roommate thought Balanchine was inferior to the Russian style." He tilted his head pensively. "Then again, he thought everything that wasn't Russian was inferior and let everyone know it. It was amusing as hell." Kathryn laughed. How many times had he made her laugh today? So many she had lost count. It seemed incomprehensible. It made her wish she'd been able to know this Justin Tighe six months ago.

"Can I see you dance sometime?" he asked.

This made her choke on her own saliva. She picked up her glass of wine, taking a long drink then responding simply, "Oh, no. Absolutely not."

"If you're half as good as you are at everything else, you must be an incredible dancer."

She narrowed her eyes, considering his motives. "Flattery will get you nowhere." She took another drink and sat her glass down. There was no way she was ever going to dance for anyone. Being _good_ at ballet was going to take work and _incredible _was going to be impossible. Besides, this wasn't just a creative outlet, it was a workout. Why should he watch her exercise? That just seemed odd.

"I can't convince you?" he asked. The question made her double guess herself but she held firm.

"Not on this one."

He nodded in acquiescence. "Alright then. Just know that I'm sure whatever you would perform would be beautiful." On instinct she wanted to brush him off, to fire off another dismissive comment or ignore what he'd said completely. But there was something in his eyes that stopped her.

_He means it_, she realized, shocked. The stone-serious look on his face told her that he wasn't saying it to charm or manipulate her. It was astounding, unexpected, and, she realized…completely unfamiliar to her.

"Maybe sometime," she said quietly, and took another sip of her wine to avoid his gaze. Perhaps—just perhaps—she could give him a glimpse into that deeply personal part of herself he was asking to see. He nodded, expression unchanged. It seemed that was all he had wanted to hear. He leaned back and crossed his arms contemplatively.

"So tell me about your Ph.D., _Doctor_ Janeway, and explain to me just how much sleep you had to lose to finish that by age 24," he teased.

"Oh, God," she said, laughing, enjoying their banter once again.

#

They'd taken their drinks outside to sit on the hill that overlooked the now starlit lake. The blue and green ribbons of the Aurora Borealis danced in the sky as they watched, her head resting on his shoulder. Their tongues were tired from speech and other things, and it was good to just sit and enjoy.

Between slow sips of her third drink of the day, she contemplated the night sky. Unlike most of the men she'd been set up with at the Academy, Justin hadn't immediately pointed out and dissected constellations or other astronomical features in front of them. No posturing, no pretense, nothing to prove. It was only, "look, here's the Aurora—it's something else, isn't it?" and then they just enjoyed it.

A sigh escaped her lips. "We have to leave this, don't we?"

His arm slipped down from her shoulders to snake around her waist and he looked at her. "You don't like the alternative?"

"Staying?"

"No. I mean, leaving. Where we go if we leave. What we do if we leave." All she could do was blink, feeling like a deer caught in a bright light. What was he saying? "I think we've finished our first date, and I'd insisted we get through at least one date. Can I you again that I think you're the most beautiful, smartest and toughest woman I've ever met?"

"Stop indulging me, Justin."

He rested a finger on her lips. "I'm not. And if you think that's indulgent, what are you going to think when I say that I would very much like to sleep with you tonight, Kathryn?"

She'd heard of marriage proposals that were less indulgent and it took her a moment to get past the heart-wrenching swell of emotion she felt. Growing up she'd believed she resented everything old-fashioned. This was something old-fashioned she was happy to live with.

She grabbed him, kissing him hard, her hands pulling on his dark hair, pressing their lips together so hard it almost hurt.

"That flattery will get you nowhere," she breathed, interrupting her raging desires. "But the feeling happens to be mutual." She kissed him again, hard. "Permission granted. So very, very happily, excitedly, giddily granted."

"Giddily?"

"Oh, shut up." He laughed, and so did she. "Your place or mine?" she asked.

"Rank has its privileges, meaning I think I have the bigger bed." He couldn't help but grin, and neither could she. "So my place?"

She nodded, starting to feel excited, happy, giddy—all of the words she'd used, and made to stand up.

"I think you should wait here for five or ten minutes first. Then meet me at my quarters." This confused Kathryn, and she looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face for a moment. Then her heart sank the slightest bit.

"Ah. Right," she said, letting him know that she recognized the need for discretion. "Keeping up the appearance that we can't stand each other is going to be something of a challenge going forward."

He kissed her again, a deep kiss that took her breath away. "Maybe it won't be so hard. There's something I love about arguing with you, Kathryn Janeway."

She rolled her eyes playfully smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. "Get back to your quarters, Tighe."

"Yes ma'am." He kissed her again, hard, pulling her against his body and leaving her breathless before letting her go. "My door will be unlocked. Just walk in." And with that, he turned and walked out of the holodeck, the doors parting with a _woosh_, leaving her standing in the middle of Montana.

Time passed painfully slowly and she lay down in the grass, keeping herself occupied counting stars.

_Four years studying quantum cosmology and now I'm just ticking off constellations to stay distracted,_ she thought painfully_. He's killing me. _

"Computer, how much time has elapsed since Justin Tighe left the holodeck?" she asked.

"Three minutes, forty one seconds."

She groaned. She understood why they shouldn't be seen together socially but maintaining this new charade would make her miserable. She wished he had taken her with him. Now she was left with her own thoughts, none of which were encouraging. Yes, he wanted her—or thought he did. But what if he decided she was too inexperienced? Too thin? Too pushy? Too demanding? Or after two years of Cheb's manipulations, what if she was actually too submissive?

Kathryn was surprised to realize how much pleasing him mattered to her. Her psyche seemed at war with itself, wanting to need no one but also desperate to have him, feel him—to be wrapped up in the man she'd so recently despised. She wanted to end their fights by shoving her tongue in his mouth and pinning him down on his own bed.

She wasn't sure how he'd react to that.

That thought left her even more uneasy about how the evening was going to unfold. What would he be like? His natural inclination was to dominate. Would that be what he would want?

She spent the next six minutes pulling grass up in fistfuls.


	4. Turn up the heat

When Kathryn arrived at Justin's quarters she was surprised to find him in the middle of retrieving two glasses of champagne from the replicator. Silently he offered her one, which she took wordlessly. He raised his in her direction.

"To new beginnings," he offered.

"To new beginnings," she echoed. They clinked glasses and took sips.

And then broke out in nervous laughter.

It was clear that this was what they both wanted, but a fundamental anxiety flowed beneath the surface for both of them. He leaned over and touched his forehead to hers, stroking her upper arm with the back of his empty hand. "I've wanted this for too long," he admitted.

Nervousness bubbled up inside her. It had been what, six years for her? "I'm a little out of practice, I'm afraid," she admitted, trying to manage his expectations, "and I can't say I was good at it before."

"I could say the same." This admission he said with more self-consciousness than she'd ever heard from him. But as was typical of him, he didn't dwell on it. "Then we'll learn together."

He took her glass from her and sat both down on an end table, then turned back to her. The look in his eyes said everything she needed to know: she was the one thing he wanted, needed and adored. That was only underscored when he pulled her in for a kiss and a night that would send shivers down her spine every time she'd think of it for years to come.

#

Hours later she lay curled up with him as he slept. Her arms and legs were entwined with his and she clung to him as if wordlessly pleading him never to leave. The stars flew by in the window overhead. Her anxiety had gone completely, leaving her feeling more at peace than she ever thought she had in her life.

Judging by the slow rise and fall of his chest, the unexpected softness she noticed in his well-muscled arms, it seemed he felt the same. The clothes they'd shed lay neatly on a single chair in the corner, their meticulous personalities having gotten the best of them even in their most heated moment. _Nothing changes,_ she thought, _and yet, everything. _

At the start Justin had been constantly checking in with her, asking what she liked, how she felt, what she wanted. It took them a while to stop intellectualizing the whole process and shut off their brains to let their bodies do the talking. She'd had to remind herself that not everything needed to be thought through or talked through, as is the curse of intellectual people. But quickly enough they learned to communicate through touch.

They soon found it was all they needed. He was astonishingly responsive, his singular endgame clearly being her enjoyment. Never had she felt so close to another person. They fit together like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their missing opposite. Minutes had passed, then hours, her worries vanishing in currents of overwhelming emotion and sensation. When it was through, one overwhelming feeling remained.

She felt safe.

And warm. _Very_ warm. This went beyond the normal warmth that came from being held against the skin of another person; she felt like she was in a sauna. Kathryn moved to throw the sheet off herself, and felt Justin stir.

"Hey there," she whispered. His head snapped up, eyes suddenly wide open, completely alert—and then he relaxed back onto the pillow.

"Mmm. Can I tell you how much nicer it is to wake up to you than an alarm clock?"

"Glad to know where I rank in the scheme of things," she joked, and leaned over and kissed him deeply. "I really enjoyed last night. And yesterday. Everything," she said.

"Me too," he said, with an expression on this face that made her think he seemed surprised to realize this.

"Did you have anything in mind for today?" she asked, wanting to outright tell him that she wanted to spend the whole day in bed with him, but still hesitant to come off as pushy or demanding.

For a moment he just looked at her. How was it she could feel embraced with only a gaze? "I don't feel like I need to leave this room," he said softly. "Do you?"

Relief, joy and excitement poured through her veins. There was a part of her that had been terrified he would wake up with sudden regrets. The last night had been like a gateway drug. She'd had a taste of who he really was and now she was insatiable. To have been suddenly cut off from him would've been a nightmare.

"I'd like that," she whispered, tossing the sheets off herself and leaning in to kiss him gently.

"Too warm?" he asked.

"It does seem a little warmer than usual in here. Is there something wrong with the environmental controls?"

"Computer, lower ambient temperature by five degrees," he called out. He looked back at her, then began hesitantly. "One of the Cardassians' many forms of…hospitality…was putting me in a room that was maybe 10, 12 degrees C. For three days. I prefer my environmental controls on the warm side now."

She was horrified but not surprised. Memories of curling up on the cold, damp floor of her cell flooded her mind and filled her with a potent sympathy that she couldn't hide on her face. "They didn't know where I'd grown up," he soothed. "Klatus prime is a lot like Siberia. I was very used to being cold. But back home you can at least escape it indoors."

The images vanished from her mind's eye. What he'd said confused her. Hadn't they jumped into a freezing lake together just yesterday? "So the reason you voluntarily jumped into a lake full of ice cubes yesterday was…?"

He laughed at her description, then sobered. "You just answered your own question."

It took a moment, then suddenly made sense. "It was voluntary," she replied, repeating her own words.

"Right. I could control _that_. It was my choice. Nothing the Cardassians did we had a choice about. And besides, it did start to feel warm. And nothing beats the euphoria afterwards."

Kathryn stayed lost in thought and memory. After a few moments she whispered, "They had me in a cold cell, too."

"I know."

"You must've hated being in that marsh," she said ruefully. Her idea to hide themselves from the Cardassians in a frigid wetland on Urtea II had saved their lives. It also left them both needing treatment for hypothermia when they'd made it back to the ship. Justin only shook his head.

"Call it crazy, but I was thrilled. We were _alive_, for one—thank you, for saving my life the first time that day—" She opened her mouth to protest and was immediately found a finger on her lips, effectively forcing her to accept his gratitude. "And second," he continued, dropping his hand back down and grasping hers, "I was finally getting to do this, though I can't say it was under the circumstances I'd imagined." He looked at her, echoes of hope and longing filling his eyes. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"In the muck?" A sigh escaped her lips and she leaned back, remembering those terrifying moments. Her eyes perused the ceiling as she answered his question, her fingers still wrapped around his. "Anything but the cold. Playing tennis back home in the miserable hot summer sun, mostly." She turned to look at him, her voice suddenly quiet. "After I realized that it was you next to me, not them."

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, voice heavy with remorse.

"No, it's fine. I imagine you must've been scared out of your wits too. Isn't that the definition of bravery? Being utterly terrorized and doing something anyway?"

He shifted, rolling on to his stomach so he could look right at her. "Kathryn, the only thing I was afraid of was regret. If the Cardassians found us, they weren't going to torture us, they were going to kill us. I'll admit I preferred that to another visit to Hotel Urtea II," he said dryly, referring to the prison complex on the planet. "I'm not afraid of death. I can't do what I do for a living and be afraid of dying or I'd go mad."

Hearing this revelation made Kathryn uneasy. How could he have made such peace with death, when she was suddenly so bothered by thoughts of him dying?

A peculiar new emotion settled in her chest. She wasn't sure it had a name, or a shape, or even a singular feeling. _No, you fool_, she realized in an instant. _This is love_.

She was still stunned at her own thoughts when she noticed he had continued speaking. "No, I spent half that time in the mud trying to work up the courage to tell you how I felt, if we survived. If we didn't, taking your hand was the closest I was going to get to being able to do that."

"And the other half?"

"Trying to figure out how I was going to run with a broken ankle and frozen toes." A wry smile escaped his lips.

This surprised her. "Not deciding when to make a break for it?"

"No, that was instinct and years of training. It's hard to explain. Thank you for trusting me." He paused for a moment. "But goddamn it, Kathryn, next time I tell you to stay put, stay put." His eyes were stern, steely, and cold. The words _Aye, Lieutenant_ began to form on her lips.

_No. _This was not who she wanted to be. Could he handle that?

She wiped her face with her hand and debated whether to call him out. She took in the desperation that hid in the creases she now saw on his face, in his set jaw, his furrowed brow, and it surprised her. She had to push back—she owed it not just to herself, but to them as a couple. They had both promised they would try.

"Justin, Admiral Paris recommended I switch tracks from science to command," she countered firmly. "Staying put may not always be the best option for me."

He looked at her, silently reading her face and she could see him quickly recognizing the pandora's box that she'd just opened for them. If he wanted to stay with her, he was going to have to back off. Even if he backed off, he was going to have to get used to her not being his subordinate—and quite possibly, him being hers. In short order.

And then he nodded and smiled, acknowledging her with a squeeze of the hand. "Will you start the training program when we get home?" he asked, seeming to have quickly shaken off any shock her announcement had delivered to his system.

_Well then, _she thought idly. _He adjusted to that idea rather quickly_. _Maybe he really can change. _

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. He seemed obviously taken aback by this.

"You haven't decided if you're doing it?"

"There are a lot of factors in my decision."

This puzzled him. "Like what?" he asked.

"Like _why_ command."

"Why _not _command?" he countered. She glared at him. He doubled down. "Kathryn, there's no doubt in anyone's mind that you'd be good at it. Everyone, including you, must see that."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Justin, but it's not that simple. I _know_ I'd be good at it. The question is…do I want it? This goes beyond knowing when to pull rank on my superior officer. Who I happen to be _cuddling_ with."

"The XO approves…" he muttered. She snorted.

"I really don't know if I want it," she whispered.

"Then wait until you know. But for what it's worth—" He turned and kissed her gently. "You'll make a fine officer." As he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to hers, she all but forgot to be annoyed that he had spoken as if the decision had already been made for her.

A comm badge chirped from the end table. "Paris to Tighe."

Justin disentangled an arm from around Kathryn and grabbed the badge. "Tighe here."

"Lieutenant, I apologize for interrupting your leave. But I need to speak with you tomorrow. I'd like to see you in person at 1000 hours."

"Of course, sir. Is there any relevant material I need to preparer ahead of time?"

"This isn't a tactical briefing, Lieutenant. Just bring yourself. I'll see you tomorrow. Paris out." The badge chirped, ending the comm. Justin stared at it blankly.

"Everything okay?" Kathryn asked.

"I think so," he answered, confusing tinging his voice. "Normally—" A comm badge chirped again, but this time it was hers.

"Paris to Janeway."

Kathryn crawled over Justin, extending an arm to snatch her badge off the end table, and stayed sprawled out over him as she answered. He gave her a raised eyebrow in response, which she ignored.

"Janeway here, sir."

"Ensign, I apologize for interrupting your leave," he said, giving her faint feelings of de ja vu. "I'd like to meet with you tomorrow at 1300 hours."

"Of course, sir. May I ask what about?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about. Relax and rest. We'll catch up tomorrow. Paris out."

Kathryn's eyes found Justin's. "That was strange," she muttered. "Any idea what's going on?"

"Not a clue," he said, and plucked her badge out of her hand, dropping it back on the table and pulling her mouth back to his. "Now, where were we?"


	5. Same cloth, different scissors

"Enter."

The doors parted on Admiral Paris' ready room, revealing Kathryn's mentor sitting at his desk. While he was dressed in civilian clothes, the air about him was just as stiff and formal as always.

"Admiral," Kathryn began.

"At ease, Kathryn." _Kathryn? _ This was a social call? "Please, sit." She did as she was told and took a seat at his desk, confused. This meeting had come at his request, not hers, so it was a surprise to see him out of uniform. To dispense completely with protocol-what was going on?

"How are you feeling, sir?" she asked, hesitant to broach the subject.

"Alright, all things considering." This did not mean _well_,she knew, but she didn't press further. He stopped, picked up one of the pictures on his desk, stared at it for a moment, and replaced it. His eyes met hers. They'd lost the glazed look they'd had a few days before, but their brightness was still gone.

"Kathryn, we need to talk about what's next. Let me get you up to speed. At the all-hands briefing this afternoon you'll be informed that our mission is being cut short. What's actually happening is that everyone who was involved in the Urtea II incident is being re-issued orders to return to Starfleet HQ immediately for post-capture debriefing. You're not familiar with the process, but in case this debriefing is a term that happens to also mean therapy, Kathryn. I expect you to do it."

So they _were_ being recalled from their mission, just as Justin had predicted. The mandatory therapy part too was just as Justin had predicted. She wasn't sure if this was a relief or a disappointment. "I…understand, sir," she said.

He sat back. "I expected you to fight me about this."

"Lieutenant Tighe has convinced me there's value in it."

"I'm glad you were able to have that conversation, difficult for the both of you as I'm sure it must've been." He took a deep breath that was visible and audible. "There's more, Kathryn. I've been placed on long-term medical leave. They'll be announcing this afternoon that Captain Altira from Ops will be taking my post for our month-long journey to DS7. She'll be in command for the future."

"What about our research?"

"I'm in no condition to lead an expedition, Kathryn."

She swallowed hard. This was a crushing blow even though she'd seen it coming.

"Understood, sir."

"In the meantime, this should have some unexpected advantages for you. It should give you plenty of time to process your data and write a few papers. You're on a reduced duty schedule until we make it home. I, for one, could use the distraction of writing a paper. But this change in plans also means that I can remove you from Lieutenant Tighe's chain of command."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not necessary, sir. I think we've worked out our differences."

He smiled, weakly, but it was still a smile. "Necessary, no. Beneficial for you both, yes." Confusion continued to play out on her face while that weak smile stayed on his. "You forget that I have two nearly adult daughters, Kathryn. I know what love looks like. With our mission complete, there's no reason for me to stand in your way."

Her jaw dropped open and she spoke without thinking. "How did you—"

"You're both _happy_, Kathryn."

She snapped her mouth shut. That knowing smile still tugged at the corner of the Admiral's lips. He stood up and turned to look out at the stars streaking by, hands clasped behind his back.

"I never told you how I met him. Very similar situation to you, I might say. A decade and a half ago, when I was a Captain and still teaching, I was scouting in the outer territories for Starfleet Academy. Klatus Prime was in one of those territories. I resented the whole thing, hated being sent out into the middle of nowhere.

"I'd been sent to conduct the in-person interviews and exams for all Academy candidates. When I arrived, I noticed there was one person in the room who wasn't on the list."

"Justin," she interjected.

The Admiral continued looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at some invisible point in the distance. "He stayed there the whole day, silently watching people come and go. At the end of the first day I finally asked him who he was and what he was doing there."

"What did he say?"

The Admiral turned, hung his head and chuckled in memory before looking back up at her. "He politely introduced himself. Presented me a PADD with his test and aptitude scores. And then demanded to be considered for acceptance. He was 15."

Kathryn blinked. No Human got into the Academy at that age. Seventeen, sure. Sixteen was considered a limit that was broken in the exceptional cases of supreme physical, emotional and intellectual maturity; superfit geniuses, in other words. Acceptance at age 15 was unheard of.

He turned his head and looked at her, his smile conveying a hint of amusement now. "Does this history sound familiar, Kathryn? A certain Cadet marching into my office, demanding that I take up my Professor's mantle again to supervise not her senior but her _junior_ thesis, no less?"

Now it was her turn to laugh and hang her head in self-effacing humor. "I'm beginning to understand your motivations for having me work with him, yes, Admiral." He nodded, and turned back to the window again.

"You two are cut from the same cloth. Very different scissors, though, I might add." Again, silence settled between them. It was like he was trying to tell her something but didn't want to.

"Sir, if I may, is there a reason you brought me here? I don't think it was to say 'I told you so' now that the cat's out of the bag that Lieutenant Tighe and I are involved.'"

"No, it's not, Kathryn." At this point, he swung around and sat down in his chair. "I don't know when I'm going to be able to return to duty again. You should be able to in a few months. At that point, if you choose to pursue command, I will gladly sponsor you in the post-graduate training program. Know that you can contact me at any time about it and I'll get you in."

"Thank you, sir."

"There is something else, and at this point I risk crossing the line between professional and personal. You're going to be faced with a lot of choices in the next few months, and the coming years. Some of them aren't going to feel like choices." His voice had a foreboding quality to it. What in the world was he trying to tell her?

"I'm not sure what you're saying, sir."

He leaned forward on the desk and folded his hands, then unclasped them and rested his palms gently on the desk. "Kathryn, your father's career took a toll on your family. My wife, my children—they all pay a price as a result of my sacrifices. And yet we all benefit, though sometimes in very intangible ways. We had to pick what was important to us. As individuals. As a couple. As a family. There is no such thing as balance, Kathryn. It doesn't exist. But you know that already."

What in the world did this have to do with her, she wondered?

"Forgive me, sir, but it almost sounds like you're trying to talk me _out_ of command."

He shook his head. "Quite the contrary. But I know you better than to try to convince you to do anything. All I can do is plant a seed in your mind. What's I'm trying to do is give you permission to forge ahead, but to impart you with the confidence to ease up on the ambition on occasion."

It was all she could do not to laugh out loud at his ridiculous suggestion. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Oh, I never said to stop being stubborn about your goals. But…don't forget take time to look around, Kathryn. You'll be in this chair before you know it."

Kathryn was utterly confused. Admiral Paris was not known for being obtuse like this. The trauma of the previous week had obviously had a disturbing effect. She was glad he'd been given medical leave. Given that, it didn't seem right to prod. Best to just express her gratitude and move on.

"Admiral, I appreciate the encouragement."

"You have no idea why I'm getting all philosophical like this, do you?"

"Absolutely none, sir."

"Justin received new orders this morning. It's not appropriate for me to go into details; he'll have to tell you himself. You face your own choice. This may be the first time you're taking another person's needs into account when making a major life decision, and that's never easy.

"I just wanted you to know…I'm here to support you _both_, Kathryn. Professionally as well as personally. Remember not just _what's_ important to you, but _who _is important to you, and know that it's okay to ease up on the gas occasionally. I told him as much as well."

She nodded, feeling suddenly incredibly self-conscious, as if he had her under a microscope. "Thank you, sir. Will that be all?"

"Call me Owen, Kathryn. It's going to be a long month until we're home."

"Yes, sir. I mean, thank you, Owen." She opened her mouth to ask if she was dismissed, then stopped, remembering something.

"Oh, sir? Owen," she corrected. Rank was a sticky thing.

"Hm?"

"Before I go, may I be so bold as to ask how your first meeting with Lieutenant Tighe ended?"

"I convinced Starfleet Academy to accept him early, albeit at age 17. His physical and intellectual aptitude was off the charts, as you well know. In the meantime, the best I was able to do for those two years was to advise him remotely. I took a more active role once he got to Earth. Perhaps he'll tell you more about it."

"Thank you, Owen."

"Give Justin my best." And with that, she said good bye and turned out of the room. In the corridor, it took everything she had not to run straight to Justin's quarters.


	6. A little black box

Kathryn found Justin in his quarters, sitting on his couch staring blankly at his coffee table. His head snapped up at the sight and sound of her in the doorway and he rose, taking her in his arms. After a long kiss they parted. He held her at arms' length, drinking her in.

"Something wrong?" she asked. A long sigh escaped his lips and he returned to the couch and they sat. A small black box and a PADD were the only items on the table. He picked up the PADD slowly, thoughtfully, and handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, thinking she knew the answer already.

"My new career. If I want it." She scrolled through the PADD and read a provisional appointment: _Senior Advisor on the Cardassian Crisis to the Federation Council. Location: San Francisco, California. Duration: Indefinite. _

Kathryn was stunned. It was an incredibly prestigious position, where he his voice would be valued among the best, brightest, and highest ranking of Starfleet. "Justin, this is—" and then out of the corner of her eye she recognized the black box. Her voice dropped half an octave when she spoke. "Is that…?"

With one hand he reached out slowly and picked up the box, opening gingerly it as though afraid of the contents. The inside revealed a shiny black pip, edged in gold.

"You got promoted!? This is wonderful! Oh, congratulations!" She threw her arms around his neck.

He accepted her embrace stiffly, reaching his hands up not to return the gesture but to instead disentangle himself from her sudden outburst of affection. "Don't get too excited, it's effective only once I begin the posting. I think they gave it to me now to tempt me. All of the other advisors are Admirals or Captains. I guess they wanted to make me look a little less green."

"Or you earned it, plain and simple," she said. "Give yourself a little credit." She looked at him as he stared blankly at the PADD in her hands. His distant gaze made him look lost, adrift and rudderless, and she knew instantly that something was wrong. "And yet you don't sound the least bit thrilled," she noted.

He turned his head to look at her, his navy eyes looking haunted from behind dark lashes. "When I was younger I would've done unspeakable things to get this posting. But people skills aren't exactly my forte, Kathryn. The only thing I hate more than cold weather is politics." She expected him to laugh but he didn't. Kathryn considered him, noted his slumped posture, his vacuous gaze at the PADD.

_This isn't about politics,_ she realized. _Starfleet just asked him to spend every day reliving his torture and called it a promotion. Oh, and took him out of the Rangers and denied him ship duty._

No wonder he looked miserable.

He looked back up at her. "How was your meeting with Admiral Paris?" he asked.

Leave it to Justin to change the conversation right at a pivotal moment.

"Thought-provoking," she offered, as oblique as the Admiral—Owen—himself had been.

"About command?" he asked, his eyes brightening with interest. "Did you say yes?"

"Not yet." She paused, suddenly understanding much of what Owen had been trying to tell her.

Command school was notoriously isolating. The fast-track postings were usually in deep space.

_And now he's stuck on Earth,_ she thought._ And I might be stuck on the other side of the galaxy._ _How can we manage that when we barely know each other?_

Hesitantly she offered, "There are some…new factors in my decision right now."

He shook his head back and forth. "Oh no. Don't you dare. Go, Kathryn. You need to go and do this._"_

"That's funny," she mused sardonically. "I recall you being a stickler for me staying put."

"You are not saying no to command because I'm flying a desk, Ensign Janeway."

"I don't believe I'm in your chain of command anymore, Lieutenant _Commander_ Tighe."

"Not yet," he retorted. "On both accounts."

"So they told you I'm being reassigned," she said, sitting back on the couch, settling in to continue bickering with him.

"Admiral Paris informed me of that this morning too."

She shook her head. "That's not what he called me in to talk about. It was a personal conversation. He wasn't even in uniform. Had me call him 'Owen.'" She frowned, not sure what to make of this, or how much to tell Justin, but generalizations seemed best to keep him from diving into what she still felt were her personal decisions. "He suggested that I could take the command track, but approach it somewhat less aggressively than I might be inclined to."

Justin looked just as confused as she had initially felt. "Why would you ever want to do that?" he asked.

She thought about it. It took a long moment before it suddenly made sense.

"Because he wants us to succeed," she spat out.

Justin's eyebrows knitted together. "We're going to be separated no matter what choice you or I make. One of us is going to have to give up something at some point. You're meant for bigger things, Kathryn. It shouldn't be you."

"Who says you're not meant for bigger things too? And years of separation aren't necessary. I can do plenty of exploration of compact halo objects from just a few thousand light years outside of Sector 001. Unlike you, I don't have to take this."

"You should be in command of a science vessel. That means we won't see each other for two years. Or four. And me…this is no attaché job. That 'Senior' title wasn't put in there to stroke my ego. I won't be stuck at my desk, Kathryn; I'll be impossible to pry from it. Particularly if things go south and a war starts."

A small voice inside her wailed. _Not again. Not like Dad. _She gathered her wits and responded,"If a war starts, we're all fucked anyway, Justin."

"Don't I know that," he sighed. He leaned back and pulled on his hair in desperate exasperation.

_He's really upset. _"This bothers you," she led, hoping he'd talk but also trying to give him an out to the conversation.

He leaned forward, staring into the distance. "It's not _this_ that bothers me." He turned and looked at her, blue eyes looking hollow. "It's what they offered me first."

Her eyebrows snapped together in confusion. "They gave you a choice?" What could be worse than what they offered?

This question was met with a slow, serious nod from him. "I'd get to continue in covert operations, but only on one specific assignment. The Cardassians have been working on bioengineering modifications to make themselves appear to be another species," he said.

"They're trying to disguise themselves to look like us?" she asked. "So that even if we scanned them with a tricorder, we couldn't tell that they were really Cardassian?" The prospect made her stomach churn.

He nodded. "And we have to fight fire with fire. Starfleet wants to put me on the project. Deep cover."

Kathryn's eyes opened wide with horror as she realized what he was saying. "Let me make sure I understand this," she said slowly. "After what you've been through, Starfleet wants to send you on another intelligence mission…as a Cardassian."

Anger lit in his eyes and he nodded, just once.

"They want you to _become_ one of them?" she said again, her voice laced with disgust. Bile rose in her throat and she unconsciously brought her hand to her mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick."

He gestured to the bathroom. "Go ahead. I already was."

How could they ask this of him? This wasn't the Starfleet she knew. But he nodded. "I understand why Starfleet might need to resort to underhanded tactics, Justin, but isn't there anyone else qualified? They're asking you to put on the uniform of the people who…"

She didn't want to finish the sentence.

"The people who tortured me?" he finished.

She nodded hesitantly.

He fixed his eyes on her. "Use the word, Kathryn. They tortured you too. Don't minimize what they did to us." His voice was quiet, revealing no hint of anger or hatred.

Her stomach tightened; something inside her didn't want to use that word. She spoke hesitantly. "Starfleet asked you to put on the uniform of the people who tortured you...The people who tortured _us._ It's vile, Justin."

"My thoughts on the offer were a little less polite than that." He took a deep breath and folded his hands. "What's worse is that Admiral Edaaw supports the assignment."

She looked at him quizzically. "You expected her not to?"

Justin hadn't told her much about the Admiral who had recruited him into the Rangers, but evidently she still had a role in shaping his career.

"Since my capture two years ago she's been…hesitant to give me assignments where I could face the Cardassians again."

Kathryn wanted to ask how then it was he came to find himself on this mission, but she sensed that he wasn't going to tell her no matter how much she poked or prodded him.

"So I suppose you accepted the position as Senior Advisor?" she asked. It surprised her to see him shake his head.

"I need time to think. About whether I have any other options."

_Other options?_ she thought. _Was he thinking about resigning his commission?_ Before she could ask, he leaned over and kissed her. "But right now, I don't want to think. And you make me forget everything. Come to bed with me."

"But we've got all-hands in an hour," she protested.

"That's an hour I don't have to think about Cardassians, Kathryn. Please. Get this out of my head."

She opened her mouth to talk him down, to tell him that she thought this was running away from his problems and that it wouldn't help matters. But his pleading eyes called to her; this was Justin Tighe asking for help. Now seemed a supremely unfair moment to deny him.

This time it was her turn to stand up, offer him her hand and lead him to the bedroom.


	7. The walk of shame

Kathryn sat at the small dining table in Justin's quarters and watched dots moving on the console. The program she'd written to tell them when the corridor was empty so she could leave discreetly was working perfectly.

"I never realized we had a morning rush hour," Kathryn called out to Justin as he finished throwing on his workout gear in his bedroom. "I'm about ready to send a ship-wide message that says 'Lieutenant Tighe and Ensign Janeway are dating. Deal with it.'" She looked up at him as he walked into the room and she sighed in exasperation. "I'm getting tired of hiding."

"Just three more weeks." He kissed her on the cheek, his strong hands stroking her shoulders. "But you're right, it does feel like we're back at the Academy, making the walk of shame the morning after a date."

She looked up at him with interest. "Did you do that much?" They hadn't talked about previous relationships beyond what they'd said the first night they'd been together.

He looked at her with an expression that said _Me? Seriously?_

Instead of answering her, he walked over to the replicator and ordered two mugs of coffee. For a moment she thought the conversation was over. Instead he returned, handed her one, and joined her at the small dining table.

"I had one girlfriend," he began, "during my first year at the Academy. It was over about as quickly as it started. Once I found out Admiral Edaaw was considering me for the Rangers I didn't even think about bothering with another relationship. I couldn't waste my four years by being distracted." He looked at her appreciatively. "I think I made the right choice. If you'd have been there when I was at the Academy, I wouldn't have gotten anything done."

This made her throw her head back in mock laughter. "I can't imagine I'm _that_ distracting."

A smile escaped his lips. "Oh, you're pretty distracting, Kathryn Janeway." He began to lift his mug to his mouth, then paused. Quietly he said, "I miss working with you."

Kathryn didn't feel like she could say the same. Working for Darren Ditillo was day to the night that working for Justin had been. Darren—he insisted on first-name terms, even when they were on duty—was an extroverted man who went beyond simply dividing up the work to outright offering her the pick of the tasks to be done on any given day. Sometimes he even asked to be proved wrong and then followed her lead when she did. Even though she was only working only half time, she left her shift each day feeling more satisfied than she had in the last six months.

Telling Justin, '_I like you but you're an obnoxious, micromanaging boss,' _somehow didn't seem like a very romantic thing to say in response to his flattery. He and Kathryn had found a rhythm after one week together and were down to one or two minor squabbles a day. She was secretly hoping to get through dinner before today's episode of bickering happened.

Quietly she offered, "I miss you while I'm working, too. I think about you quite a lot, actually."

That wasn't a lie, right? Just a minor…redirection. And the second half was absolutely true. It _was_ work to keep him off her mind. Differential geometry paled in comparison to thoughts of his eyes, his arms, his chest, his fingertips exploring the length of her body…

_Stop it,_ she thought to herself._ He's right in front of you, all you have to do is ask. That'll definitely get him to forget your little half-truth, there._ But he gazed at her. A gentle smile appeared on his lips and she knew he wasn't the wiser.

Hoping to disguise her own reluctance to continue this topic of conversation, she took a deep swallow of coffee and was surprised by what she tasted. The burned, bitter flavor was unmistakable and made her stare at the mug, then looked up at Justin.

"Justin, what is this?"

"Last time I checked, it was called coffee?" he joked.

"Of course it's coffee," she answered seriously. "Did you give me decaf?"

He looked at her, perplexed. "You can tell?"

She fixed her most withering glare on him. "Yes, I can tell. And at 0700 you are not to even attempt to hand me decaffeinated coffee if you'd like to live past your lieutenancy, is that understood?" she teased, voice serious but unable to keep the grin off her face.

He grinned in return and took the mug back. "Yes, ma'am." Turning around, he returned to the replicator to recycle it for her. She recalled his first order, a simple default request for 'Coffee, hot, two cups.' This time, he specified, _regular _as he asked for a new cup.

"Why on Earth are your defaults set to _decaf_?" she chided as the new cup materialized.

He looked at her seriously as he walked back and took his seat across from her. "Regular coffee makes me too anxious. I can't be nervous and suddenly be called on to make life-or-death decisions." He paused in memory, speaking more quietly when he continued, his eyes fixed on her. "I got the call about you at 1000 hours. If I'd been hyped up on a latte or two it could've gone even worse than it did."

Kathryn blinked as she realized what he was saying. "Justin, you're talking as if what happened was a failure. We got out. _You_ got me out."

"And I drew my phaser when I should've realized it wasn't operative. And I wasn't situationally aware enough to avoid breaking my own ankle."

He was being ridiculous. "It was pitch dark, Justin, there was no way you should blame yourself for that." The look he shot her now said _Are you crazy?_

The frustration seeped into his voice. "Kathryn, I was wearing night vision contact lenses. There isn't a nocturnal animal on Earth that can see as well in the dark as I could that night. I broke my ankle because I wasn't paying attention."

All she could do was blink. _Well, look who's standing on a ledge of self-blame, _she thought. _There's going to be no talking him down from this one._ But there was nothing cathartic about watching him beat himself up until he'd emptied himself out. And so she stood up, leaned across the table and reached out to pull his mouth to hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her eyes drifted closed and she kissed him softly. For a moment she couldn't think, lost in the feeling of his soft lips against hers, the night's beard growth rough on her hands. The lingering notes of coffee, bitter as it was, made the kiss that much sweeter.

She pulled away, still cradling his face in her hands.

"What was that for?" he asked, confused.

She fixed her eyes on his and admitted what she knew. "For the fact that I don't have the words to tell you what you need to hear."

A long moment went by before he responded, his voice almost inaudible.

"I don't know what I need to hear."

She leaned in and kissed him again. "That's fine."

He reached up and pulled her by the arm over to his side of the table, sitting her on his lap. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His slipped around her waist and they kissed again.

"Don't go," he breathed. "Stay. At least for breakfast. You're not on duty for an hour."

"You know it won't be breakfast, it'll be breakfast in bed." At his sad half-smile, she continued, "I've missed breakfast with them twice this week already. Any more and they'll start asking questions." She paused. "Unless you want me to just send that message to the whole ship about us sleeping together and get it over with," she joked. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine." With the hand that wasn't still wrapped around her, he turned the console to face them. A quick glance at her program showed that the corridor was emptying out, and she stood. He rose with her.

"I should be going, then," she said. But instead of responding, he reached up and adjusted the pip on her collar. It caught her off guard.

"It couldn't have slipped out of place already," she worried.

He stepped back to take in her whole image and shook his head. "It hadn't. I just wanted to see you ready for the day." The emotion overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

_I love you, Justin._

It took every ounce of her strength not to say it. Who knew how he would react? _I think he feels it,_ she thought,_ but what if he doesn't?_

"We should say goodbye," she said instead.

He nodded. "I'll see you after lunch? I'm looking forward to you showing me this tennis game you keep talking about."

"I keep telling you, don't get so excited. It's not that interesting."

"I'll be the judge of that." He pulled her to him and kissed her farewell, separating reluctantly. "Enjoy your duty shift, Ensign."

She nodded and they glanced down at the console again. The diagram of the corridor was blank at last.

"Coast is clear," he said.

She hurried to the door. Before she tapped the keypad, she kissed her fingertips and held them up for him to see across the room. He smiled back. The doors parted for her and she slipped out into the hallway.


	8. Intervention

After her duty shift had ended, Kathryn found her group of friends and colleagues at lunch, sitting at a table in the middle of the mess hall. She was glad to get to join them for a change. In the last six months she'd been so desperate to keep up with the tasks Justin gave her that she'd often worked through her mid-day meal.

She took her lunch from the replicator and headed for her friends' table, nearly missing the other friend in the room, the one who sat alone in a corner with his back to the crowd. Justin's mop of dark hair was unmistakable.

Her heart ached to see him so isolated. _Why does he do this to himself?, _she wondered in frustration. The urge to invite him to join her group called to her like a catnip to a kitten.

Kathryn pulled her eyes away from him. Avoiding a brushfire of gossip was more important than welcoming him into her social circle.

"Kathryn, are you going to keep staring out that window or join us?"

She whipped her head around. The voice came from Rek, the young Bolian Ensign in their group. Without a glance back at Justin, she went and sat down.

Rek clapped Darren Ditillo on the shoulder. "So how's our esteemed companion here as a boss, Kathryn?"

She made a face of mock disgust. "Terrible. Has me working day and night, writing four papers at once. He's just cracking the whip." She smiled broadly. Darren laughed.

"And Janeway's just impossible. Never does her work, leaves everything for me…" he was grinning madly and the sarcasm was evident. Chuckles came from her friends, who knew of the long hours she put in to her work.

Sally Rhoades chimed in. "You seem happier, Kathryn."

"Hm?" Kathryn asked, not sure what Sally thought she seemed happier about.

Sally gestured at Darren with her spoon. "Being _his_ direct report," she explained. _And not Justin's_, were the words left unsaid.

Kathryn raised a forkful of salad to her mouth, thinking how she could best dodge Sally's loaded question. "It's just a different management style." She picked up her mug and took a swallow of coffee.

Sally paused for a thoughtful moment before chiming in with her own comment. "I think he likes you, Kathryn."

Kathryn nearly spat her drink across the table. "Excuse me?"

All eyes at the table were on Kathryn now. Sally continued to prod. "I think Lieutenant Tighe's got a crush on you."

Kathryn leaned in and whispered, conscious of the very busy room around her. "Are we in middle school?" she hissed.

Rek shrugged. "We do a good impression of it sometimes." He suddenly seemed too interested in the new and juicy topic of conversation.

"No, seriously," Sally continued. "I think the reason you avoid each other like the plague is that he's interested in you. And now that you're not in his chain of command and we're headed home…"

Kathryn glared at her. "Stop this," she warned Sally. "Stop this now."

"Oh, Kathryn, it's worse than that," chimed in Rek. "We think you've got a thing for him too."

Kathryn looked around at the whole group. "Have you all lost your minds?" How had they gotten this idea? She'd tried so hard to make everything appear professional over the last few months…

Darren, who had sat silently through the entire exchange, stood up and pushed in his chair. Kathryn wasn't sure what he was doing until it was too late. She turned around and watched, horrified, as he crossed the mess hall and began talking to Justin.

Kathryn looked back at the others at the table, no longer having to feign how completely mortified she felt. With slitted eyes and gritted teeth, she chastised her friends. "You all planned this, didn't you."

"Yup," said Rek. "Sally made the case, and I had to admit…the evidence was there." Kathryn's mouth fell open.

"What _evidence_?" Kathryn whispered angrily.

Suddenly Kathryn heard a new voice at the table. "So, Darren. This is the lunch club you keep inviting me to." Justin sounded almost amused.

"Glad you could finally join us," Darren said. "Have a seat." He pulled out the chair he'd been sitting in and offered it to Justin. Justin sat down.

Right next to Kathryn.

She turned her head, trying to keep an emotionless tone as she greeted him. "Lieutenant."

He nodded formally at her. "Ensign Janeway."

Darren pulled up a chair, took a seat, and addressed the group. "As the ranking officer at this table, I feel it's my duty to say…"-he looked pointedly at Kathryn and Justin—"Spit it out, you two." A conniving smile was plastered on his face.

Kathryn's jaw fell open. She fought the urge to look over at Justin to see his reaction.

"Spit _what_ out, exactly?" asked Justin, back to his usual calm, cool and collected. After spending a week with him, though, she knew now that he sounded _too _calm, cool and collected.

Darren leaned in, steepled his hands and spoke quietly. "You're together."

Kathryn and Justin stayed silent, eyes forward. Kathryn felt like she was on trial.

"Stop trying to hide it," Sally said seriously. "We know what's going on. It's a tiny ship." She glanced at the other members of the group and then back at Kathryn and Justin and lowered her voice. "And we're all happy for you. It's about time."

Kathryn and Justin spoke at once.

"This isn't—"

"We're not discussing—"

They cut themselves off and looked at each other in surprise.

Darren crossed his arms and smiled with self-satisfaction. "I believe we have our answer."

Kathryn wasn't having this. No one on the ship needed to know what was going on between them. She knew of other clandestine couples onboard and not everyone viewed mid-mission couplings positively. She opened her mouth to chastise the group—

"Yes. We're together."

Kathryn whipped her head around to look at Justin. There was no way to hide the look on her face, which she knew screamed _What the hell have you done?! _

He ignored her and turned back to the group. Her temper flared at the choice he'd just made for her, but surrounded as she was by a half dozen evidently gossip-prone colleagues she quickly extinguished it. An outburst wouldn't help their situation; she'd deal with Justin later.

Sally elbowed Darren. "Looks like you owe me a half day of holodeck time," she said, grinning.

"You took bets on whether Lieutenant Tighe and I were seeing each other?" Kathryn said in disbelief.

Justin folded his arms. "How many people beyond this table know?" He asked, glancing around disapprovingly at the very full mess hall.

Sally ticked off names on her fingers. "Maybe 20?"

Justin frowned. Kathryn slumped in her seat.

He looked at her. "I think we're past being able to hide this, Kathryn."

"Oh, first names!" Rek cried, clapping his hands together. Kathryn and Justin glowered at him. "What? I'm thrilled for you."

"What I think Rek means is—" Darren interjected, reaching a hand out to calm Rek's excitement, "You two can stop pretending to hate each other. We know you'll both be professional about it."

Kathryn shot Justin a wordless glance that said, _You're okay with this?_

Justin leaned back in his chair and offered an upturned palm and a sardonic half-smile. "Well played, Ditillo. Well played."

It took her by surprise to see Justin not only at a disadvantage but seemingly unperturbed by it. The bigger surprise was realizing that she had just watched Justin with a _friend._

_This from quiet, anti-social Justin Tighe? _How much else didn't she know about him?

"Now that that's cleared up," Darren asked the group, "Whose arm can I twist to play with me in next week's Parrisses' Squares tournament?"

Kathryn watched in amazement as Justin volunteered for the game.

#

She and Justin walked out of the mess hall, striding side by side through the corridor.

"Twenty people," Kathryn grumbled as they walked, "Twenty. How in less than a week did almost a quarter of the ship figure out that we're seeing each other?"

"Does it matter?" he asked. "The cat's out of the bag now."

Kathryn bristled at the thought and stopped in the middle of the hallway. Frustration laced her voice as she responded, "Yes, but I wish you hadn't helped it out of the bag."

He looked surprised at her comment.

_Here we go again, _she thought. _Let's check today's argument off the to-do list, shall we?_

Justin stopped and put his hands on his hips, clearly ready to dig in for the day's bout. "I wanted the gossip and rumors to end. People won't talk if we're just another one of the couples on board. If they think we're hiding something, then we're fodder for conversation."

_That's not why I'm angry_, she thought bitterly. "That's all true, but the point is that yet again you made the decision for me. For _us_," she retorted.

His voice was quieter when he spoke and it betrayed his rising anger. "How do you propose we would've hashed out that decision in front of five people?" he said slowly, gesturing to thin air. "Hold on everybody, Ensign Janeway and I are going to debate whether we've been sleeping together for the last week and we'll let you know what we decide?"

Kathryn gritted her teeth against the humiliation of being mocked. And how was it that he always became more quiet, more controlled when he was mad? That alone made her furious.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the shadow of another crewman approaching. Justin caught this as well and they both relaxed their stances and stepped out of the way as Commander T'Por passed by.

"Ensign. Lieutenant," the tall Vulcan woman greeted, nodding at them both, then continuing on her way.

The embarrassment from nearly getting caught mid-argument made Kathryn's cheeks flush. She wanted to grab Justin by the collar and shake some sense into him. Instead she turned back to him and lowered her voice to match his.

"Enough," she hissed. "Go grab whatever you need for tennis and meet me at my quarters. We'll finish this there. I want this argument over before our holodeck time."

His fierce navy gaze bored into hers. "Agreed." They turned on their heels and went opposite ways.

Kathryn stormed back to her quarters. The anger that simmered while she opened her closet had come out of nowhere. It felt fueled by a peculiar, out-of-proportion sense of betrayal that she wanted to shake but couldn't. Since when did someone who wanted everyone to leave him alone start spouting his business to a table of half a dozen people?

She yanked out the two racquets and hopper of tennis balls she'd replicated that morning. She pulled the sleeveless athletic dress off a closet hanger and began unzipping her uniform, with so much force she was surprised the zipper didn't break. The door chimed a few minutes later while she was still wrestling with her hair.

"Come in," she called tersely, still yanking at her tangled locks with a brush. The doors parted and she stepped out of her bedroom to join him in the less suggestive space of her living room. She watched his eyes dart down the length of her, taking in the new and unusual way she was dressed. But they quickly found her face again.

"We don't need to do this, Kathryn," he suggested. "Just this morning you said you were tired of hiding. You got your wish."

A forceful breath escaped her lungs. "My problem isn't that people know," she began, "It's that I didn't have a say in how we told them. I wanted to tell them that it wasn't their business. Let them talk! At the very least, it would've given us an evening to decide _together_ if we wanted to tell people what's going on."

In frustration he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. "They already knew. It was over, Kathryn. Sometimes you have to know when to surrender."

"So now you're telling me again that you know better than I do. Goddammit, Justin, would you follow my lead, just once!?"

"Kathryn, we're not telepathic. How was I supposed to know what you wanted me to do?"

She gestured frantically at the air. "I don't know, maybe you could try _talking_ to me first, or thinking about what _I _might want?" Now she was getting sarcastic. This wasn't good.

He stepped closer to her. "But I did. Yes, I want us to be left alone. But I thought you weren't the only one who'd had enough of hiding." Their eyes were locked and his chest rose and fell visibly with tension. A moment passed, and then he spoke, quietly, somberly. "I was wrong."

Kathryn was floored. Did Justin Tighe just apologize?

He stepped closer to her, his hands resting on her upper arms in an uncertain embrace. She stared at him, stunned silent as he kept speaking. "But you are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I want everyone to know that. So if you think I was going to turn down the chance to let the whole ship know that I'd finally won you over, you're wrong."

God, how she'd longed to be wanted the way he was describing. Over the years she'd listened enviously to friends talking about their partners with admiration and awe. Now it was finally her turn, and for an instant she forgave him for everything.

Then the anger came rushing back, its hold over her weaker this time.

No, he hadn't won her over, not yet, maybe not ever. That held no appeal for her. Why did she always have to be his subordinate? "I don't want to be won over, Justin," she corrected, still desperately trying to make her case.

His expression changed to one of confusion and it took him a moment to respond. "If you don't want to be won over," he asked slowly, "then what do you want?"

How could she explain this? How did two people become equals? "I know you're used to doing things on your own. But we're not living in a world of unilateral decisions anymore. What you do affects me. What I do affects you. We're a unit now."

But it was more than that. She needed more.

"I know you trust me, Justin. But I need you to trust me with _us_."

He stayed silent for a long moment, making her worry that he hadn't understood, or that she was asking too much.

Finally, he nodded. "I'll try."

"Do better than try. Succeed, dammit," she added, pleading. Her voice had fallen to a whisper. "I think you can."

He searched her eyes for a moment and it seemed as if he doubted the words she'd spoken. But he nodded and pulled her in to an embrace. The fight had gone from her, the wind taken out of her sails, and she rested her head on his chest. "I'm so tired of arguing with you," she whispered.

"Then let's not." He paused for a moment, the expression on his face now one of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. "How many hours do we have the holodeck for?" he asked.

This confused her and she looked up at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just tell me," he said softly.

"Four," she answered. He looked down at her.

"Does a tennis lesson take four hours?"

"Maybe two. Why does it matter?" she asked, confused.

He tilted his head down and kissed her, her body rising against his, before he pulled back just far enough to speak. Without a hint of possessiveness in his voice, he answered her.

"Because I'm going to show you just how much I want to tell everyone you're mine." With that, he reached up for the zipper on her collar.

Five minutes later their argument and her dress lay forgotten in the living room.


	9. Game, Set, Well-Matched

*trigger warning for depictions of violence

The heat of an Indiana summer greeted them as they walked through the doors of the holodeck later that afternoon. Kathryn's mood had mellowed. Maybe it had been the sex or his apology, or the smell of corn now wafting through the air, but the comfort of a familiar place gave her the feeling of being on solid ground for once in her new relationship.

They walked to a series of tennis courts that extended across a long field, bordered by rows of peak-season corn on one side, and on the other by the athletic fields of a school campus.

"Where are we?" Justin asked.

"The Meadows School in Lafayette, Indiana. This was where I learned to play. I went to middle school here." At this he tilted his head in interest and looked around, his eyes taking in the antiquated, sand-hued stone buildings and fields that extended out into the distance. A mystified expression crossed his face.

Kathryn opened the gate of the nearest court for him. He paused, reaching up and touching chain-link fence that surrounded the area. It took her a moment to realize why he was so captivated. The expression on his face was one she'd seen countless times on the faces of visitors to their school.

"It's a fence," she explained.

"I know what a fence is," he said, his voice carrying no hint of anger, only curiosity. The intrigued look on his face matched the tone of his words as he continued, "But I didn't expect you would."

With an extended hand, she gestured for him to enter the court. "I went to a traditionalist school. There were no forcefields. Or any advanced technology, actually."

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?" she asked as she set up the hopper.

He seemed hesitant to respond. "That's not what I expected from you."

It wasn't hard to tell what he was hinting at and she gave him a gentle, compassionate smile as she pulled her racquet out of its case. "You mean, where's the gleaming, state-of-the art, elite Starfleet prep school that my Daddy the Admiral had to pull strings to get me into?" Kathryn knew she'd hit home when stunned silence was his only response. "You yourself said I was spoiled," she added.

This earned her a reluctant smile and a nod. "I said I _thought_ you would be," he corrected. "Not that you were."

She shook her head. "No, you were right. I am spoiled. And the elite prep school was later, though Dad wasn't around to pull strings even if he'd wanted to. I resented this," she said, gesturing around her with her index finger, "but I have to give my parents credit for trying to keep me grounded." She frowned. "In many cases, literally grounded. No advanced tech meant no shuttlepods, no off-world trips."

At his furrowed brow she knew he'd become curious about something she said. "Your dad wasn't around?"

She had to admit that the question he'd asked wasn't what she'd expected him to latch on to. A long sigh escaped her lips. "He's almost never around, Justin." He looked as if he wanted to ask more but Kathryn wasn't ready in that moment to talk about her father's absence. So she took a ball out of the hopper and tossed it to him. He caught it easily with one hand.

"What does this thing do?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, matter-of-factly. "You're supposed to hit it with the racquet."

He looked at the court. "Back and forth, over the net?" She nodded. "Trying to get it into the boxes?"

At this she shook her head. "Not exactly. I'll show you. It's harder than you think."

#

They took a break halfway through a set and rested on the athletic field. Clouds floated in a picture-perfect blue sky above their heads, the grass soft like a blanket below them. Justin's presence was a balm soothing her raw soul.

"I don't think I've ever enjoyed tennis that much," she told him.

"That's because you were kicking my ass at the game," he teased. Kathryn thought she could hear him grinning.

"Well, I guess being captain of my tennis team was useful for something," she laughed.

"Hm," he said, thinking about her comment. "Captain Kathryn Janeway. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

_How did we go from talking about tennis to talking about command?_ she wondered, and lifted her head off his chest to look him in the eyes.

"Why in the world are you so determined to get me to switch to command?"

The carefree moment had been lost and a serious look had taken over his face. "Because you'd be damned good at it. And that matters because in our line of work people get asked to put their lives on the line, and I want someone like you to do the asking."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, stunned by what his comment had meant. They'd both just nearly died because of decisions someone higher up had made. Now she was getting offered the chance to make those decisions.

Dark and frightening memories threatened at the edge of her psyche. _No. Not now_, she thought._ I can't handle this now. _Besides, what about his next mission? If they were going to talk about her plans, she certainly wanted to talk about his. That seemed an even more unpleasant can of worms to open.

"I'm not going to talk about command, not now," she decided, snuggling back onto his chest. "I'm enjoying this too much."

"Alright, alright." He paused to change the conversation. "So explain to me about this traditionalist school, then."

Again it struck her as ironic that he seemed so interested in her life yet held his cards so close to the chest. But she answered him anyways.

"There's not much to say. Anything that could be done with minimal technology, was. We learned about ancient history instead of galactic cultures in school, that type of thing," she explained. "Our entire community was traditionalist. I grew up in a non-automated farmhouse. My parents don't transport directly home; they use the community center. And we cooked. No replicated food. I resented that especially."

"That…sounds familiar," he chimed in quietly.

She looked up at him. "But it wasn't a choice for you."

His blue eyes considered hers. "In a way it wasn't a choice for you, either."

He'd made an unexpected point. "That's true," she noted. While his family had lived traditionally as a result of a hardscrabble life and hers had done it out of sheer privilege, their childhood lifestyles hadn't been choices either one of them had made.

It astonished her that he was trying to find common ground. She hazarded a guess on another topic. "Did your little sister happen to be an annoying, pain-in-the-neck like mine too?"

She felt his head move in a motion that was halfway between a nod for 'yes' and a shake for 'no'. "Annoying isn't the right word. Caroline's more in the 'obnoxious, self-righteous little sister' category."

Kathryn was surprised to realize how similarly she felt about her own sister. Calling Phoebe 'annoying' had been using the polite word. She offered hesitantly, "I never told you that Phoebe and I don't have anything to do with each other unless our parents force us to, did I?" She'd never been able to figure out how to make the relationship work, and as much as she liked to blame Phoebe, she knew she herself was equally at fault.

"Really," he said, sounding surprised to hear this. "Why?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "We're night and day, I suppose. She's an artist. I'm a scientist. I'm a planner and a perfectionist. Phoebe just goes with the flow. We absolutely don't understand each other. With Dad being gone, we didn't seek comfort in each other; we blamed each other and then fought bitterly for his attention when he _was _around. She…" Kathryn's voice trailed off as she realized she needed to correct herself. "We both can be quite cruel."

"The pictures in your quarters," Justin led. "Everything looks so perfect."

Her space was littered with photographs of memorable occasions with family and friends from the Academy. The images made her temporary home seem more cozy, she'd thought, even though she felt misunderstood by most of her family and she wasn't close with the majority of the friends. She'd caught Justin looking at her graduation photos one morning but he'd never asked about them until now.

She crossed her arms on his chest, resting her head on them as if they were a pillow. "It's aspirational, Justin," she explained. "I want the smiling family that's in my Academy commissioning picture. Did you notice my father's missing from my high school _and_ my doctoral graduation photos?"

"I just figured you were closer to your mother," he responded.

"He didn't make it to those graduations," she corrected. "He's barely been around for the last 15 years of my life. I lost track of the birthdays and recitals he missed. I didn't believe he would make it to my commissioning ceremony until I saw him with my own eyes. I understand that duty leaves him no choice, but it seems like when there is one, he still picks his work_._"

"My father refused to go to my Academy graduation," Justin said quietly. She looked up at him, utterly shocked at what she was hearing. "I offered to cover his missed wages and his transportation, everything. But he wouldn't come."

"That makes no sense. Why wouldn't he come?" she asked, more incredulous than she thought she had reason to be.

"This wasn't the dream he had for me. He thought I should be running the mine back home."

"That must've felt terrible." _And so familiar_, she thought. She could practically feel the sting of the outright rejection that she knew so well.

He shrugged, dismissing her sympathy. Though one of his hands cradled her back, she could see the fingers of his other one wrapped tensely around a fistful of grass.

"Don't get me wrong. I understand why my father thought that should be my ambition. There's a lot to do down there, and it's complicated engineering, trying to find and extract what dilithium is left." He looked at her cautiously as if considering whether to tell her what he was going to say next. "I worked in the mines," he said by way of explanation. "On school breaks, starting when I was fourteen."

This news shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, but it did. She quickly connected his comment to one the Admiral had made to her days earlier. "Is that why you approached Admiral Paris about entering the Academy when you were fifteen?" she asked.

"So he told you that." He tilted his head and she thought she could see annoyance on his face. "The future for that colony is short, no matter how high up in the ranks you go. And I knew that back then."

He shifted under her.

"I was able to bring my mom out for graduation," he said, continuing his story. "She watched me roast in the hot sun for two hours to get my pip. She told me Dad was proud, but I knew she was just trying to tell me what I wanted to hear. I'm alright with it now."

But was he, really? He had said that there was nothing for him back on Klatus Prime and he had no intention of ever returning.

"You don't sound alright with it," she prodded.

He took a very deep breath and let it out slowly.

"One of the first things I ever told you was that I decided when I was ten that I wasn't following in my father's footsteps. It was because he'd tried to prevent a cave-in, and in the process lost two fingers and an eye. He saved half of the men on his shift. I didn't want that to happen to me, for the sake of getting some rock out of the ground."

"What happened to other men on his shift?"

He shook his head, and her stomach sank. "My dad's brave as hell," he added.

"So are you," she reminded him. The wind ruffled Justin's hair and Kathryn felt the need to tuck a short lock behind his ear. Underneath her she felt him laugh, ruefully and silently.

"What?"

"The irony is that in the end, I did end up just like him."

He sat up, and she rolled off him. He sat, arms resting on his knees, staring at the cornfields and away from her.

"The Cardassians mostly left me alone in my cell. But the second day, they took me out and introduced me to one of their xenobiologists. She said she was curious about a little ocular parasite that had been ravaging one of their colonies. Told me she wanted to test out a cure." He laughed, sadly, then looked at her. "Starfleet told me they'd get the transplant to match perfectly and that no one would notice. I'll have to tell the doctor he was right, the next time I'm back."

"What?" Her gaze darted between his eyes, looking for any sign of what she suddenly realized had been done to him. But there was none.

He smiled sadly, folding his hands. "They gave me the parasite, but no cure, of course," he explained, anger and disbelief playing out on his face. "By the time I escaped, my right eye had been obliterated by the thing. You heard Admiral Paris's screams; I lay in the cold and the dark and heard nothing but my own while that thing ate its way through my eye."

She looked again, trying to see a difference in the blue in his two eyes.

"They're the same," he explained. "They grew me a new one from what was left. It looks just like my first eye. Dad told me I couldn't run from my problems by joining Starfleet, and he was right. The only difference between me and him now is that when I lost my eye, I got a replacement."

He looked down at his hands, turning them over as if in amazement. "Huh. That's the first time I've told anyone that and haven't ended up shaking."

"Who else have you told?" she asked, slowly reaching out her hand to hold his.

"A long list of Starfleet therapists and doctors," he replied. "Paris and Edaaw. No one else."

_So he hadn't told his family,_ she realized_, _just like her. "Is this why you don't go back home?" she asked quietly. "You don't want them to know?"

He nodded. "My mother has a sixth sense. She'll know something happened. And I don't want to hear my father say, 'I told you so.'" He locked eyes with her. "Are you planning on telling your family?"

She sighed. "I imagine Owen may have already. Sometimes it's not always good to be in the family business."

"Amen." He stood up. "Come on. I still haven't beaten you at a game yet and my ego needs a little stroking."

She laughed and followed him to her feet.

#

Time and worries seemed to vanish as they played. For the first time in all the years she'd played she had an opponent who was playing for fun, not competition, where the point was to tease each other about how terrible their shots were instead of winning the game. They'd stopped keeping score halfway through.

It impressed her how quickly Justin had taken to the sport. Owen had been right; his physical aptitude was clearly off the charts as he barely missed any of the shots she lobbed in his direction. Once he'd hit the ball, well, his aim needed some work. She'd lost track of the number he'd hit clear out of the court when he'd underestimated his own strength.

He'd set up a final shot, and Kathryn was ready to go in for the kill. Justin's serve was no longer laughable and the ball was both in-bounds and reachable. She charged towards it, pulling back her shoulders, twisting her torso, ready for the impact. And when she felt it—

_Boom. _

She smashed the ball to the other side of the court, her follow-through so intense that a sharp pain cut through her shoulder. The ball hit the far corner and ricocheted up over the three-meter fence, landing in the grass behind with a quiet thud.

But she didn't notice. The sweet serotonin that had been flowing through her veins was suddenly replaced with acidic adrenaline. Every cell in her body screamed for her to run yet she felt too terrorized to move. Her heart was a snare drum in her chest, its loud and painful tattoo the only sound she could make out. An invisible elephant sat on her lungs with each sharp, shallow, rapid breath she took. The enemy was nowhere to be found yet his presence seemed palpable, inescapable.

A low whistle could be heard across the court. "Out," Justin called.

Kathryn turned to him, her face pale and skin feeling clammy. Her hands trembled and the racquet fell from her fingers. It hit the hardcourt with a metallic thud.

She felt like she was drowning, a voice in her head crying out, trying to stay above water: _It was just a tennis ball, it was just a tennis ball, it was just a tennis ball-_

Justin looked at her curiously then dropped his racquet and moved purposefully across the court, jumping over the net. She watched his every movement in what felt like slow motion before he was at her side.

"All this time," he said calmly, "I thought you'd had some combat training, taking out that Toskanar the way you did."

The ground seemed to pull at her and she sat, knees up, head in her hands. Her hair had fallen in her eyes, forearms resting on her knees. He sat down and joined her in the Indiana sun. The pictures in her head were so vivid: the trooper, the monstrous canine, the blood flying everywhere as the creature's teeth cut clear through Justin's body armor... desperately she tried to force the images out of her head and felt herself failing miserably.

"No…just…just…Goddammit, Justin, I want this out of my head! They never told me this was what I was signing up for!" She wanted to cry but couldn't. Her hands were still shaking violently. He reached out for one and took it, wrapping her delicate fingers in his strong ones, forcing the tremors to stillness.

"To think of all the hundreds of hours I spent practicing on these courts," she said, looking around, her words vitriolic, free hand gesturing wildly. "All this time I was never learning tennis. I was learning a combat skill."

"And it saved my life," he reminded her. "You can be angry about this, but I have to be thankful about at least _that_ part of it."

She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "You're thankful for what happened to us?" Had he lost his mind?

His gaze fell to his feet, then rose to the sky, finally settling on cornfields in the distance. "My mother used to have a saying. An old Earth one, I suppose," he began. "Every cloud has a silver lining."

_How quaint, _she thought, not wanting to belittle the memory but feeling patronized nonetheless. "I've heard it," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm.

He looked back at her. "Do you think we'd have been together if you hadn't been captured? If _I_ hadn't been? You are the one person who understands. How completely wrong is it that, in part, the Cardassians are responsible for leading me to the woman I love?"

_Wait, what?_

He'd set her head spinning. She must've heard wrong; he couldn't have just said that he loved her. Justin just didn't say things like that.

"You…what did you say?" she asked, stammering.

He plowed ahead. "If I hadn't nearly lost you, I probably would've kept my mouth shut all year and let you walk right out of my life at the end of the mission. I doubt we'd be together if it hadn't been for the Cardassians."

She was shaking her head furiously, her eyes wide as she hung on his every word. "No, the other part."

He took a deep breath as if gathering the strength inside him to say the next words. Then quietly, shyly, he spoke.

"Yeah, Kathryn. I'm in love with you."

"I love you too." The words had flown from her lips. There had been no hesitation, there was no regret, only a need to let it be spoken before she woke up from this moment that was surely a dream. Desperately she threw her arms around his neck and they lost their balance, collapsing back on the grass in a heap, her kisses unrestrained. "I love you," she echoed again.

"Good," he said, sounding relieved, "Because I was worried you didn't." Her eyebrows went up in surprise. She'd thought her emotions had been an open book.

"I was worried you didn't feel that way either," she said. She looked away, then furtively back at him. "So you were never going to say anything?" she asked. "All year?"

He looked at her inquisitively. "No. Were you?"

"I…didn't realize how attracted to you I was." She paused then cast her glance to the side, muttering an oath.

"What?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"You're right. This—you and I-wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been captured. I didn't have feelings for you until after the mission." A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "How thoroughly revolting that I owe the Cardassians a debt of gratitude."

"You don't owe them anything," he snarled, then sobered. "But maybe it makes some of the agony worthwhile." He looked around at the court. "Again tomorrow?"

The idea of another mid-game flashback wasn't appealing at all. Frowning, she shook her head.

"I don't think so."

After considering her for a moment he spoke to the computer. "Computer, reserve the athletic holodeck from 1800 to 1900 hours daily for the next seven days and pre-load program Janeway three-zero." He gave the computer his authorization codes for the change.

She did not like the sound of this. "Justin, what are you doing?"

"Exposure therapy. We're going to whack fuzzy yellow balls around until a backhand doesn't make you think you're staring down Cardassian troopers and Toskanar dogs. Starfleet's going to make you do it anyways. This way, at least maybe you can finish debriefing early. You could get started on command school or your next posting sooner." His voice was unexpectedly compassionate, caring, and just downright….

Paternal.

_He will not make me do this. _She knew what she had to do. Kathryn stood up, looked him in the eyes, and spoke a command to the ship.

"Computer, delete program Janeway three-zero, authorization zeta—"

"Wait."

Kathryn wondered what was more infuriating: that he'd interrupted her or that he was going to try to tell her what to do, again. She could see him gritting his teeth as if wanting to say one thing, but gathering the words to say another.

"I don't agree with what you're doing. But I of all people should know that you need to call the shots right now," he offered apologetically. "You don't have to delete the program. I know you put a lot of work into it. Keep it for when you're ready to use it again."

This came as a complete surprise. Unlike earlier in the day, she hadn't had to tell him what was wrong _and _he'd figured out how to fix it.

_Goddammit, he's a quick learner. _

But it was the next thought that hit her like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her speechless.

_I think I could marry this man. _

Stunned, she stared at him, dazed and unblinking for more than a moment. He waved his hand in front of her face.

"Anybody home, Kathryn?"

"Hm?" she answered, his voice pulling her abruptly out of her shock.

"Please tell me you weren't dissociating again," he asked. Those beautiful blue eyes—that lovely, new blue eye—looked worried. Instead of answering, she stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace.

"No," she replied, smiling and feeling nothing less than perfect comfort in his arms. "This time I stayed put." He pulled her closer against his chest.

"Just promise me one thing," he asked. She looked up, wondering he could possibly want her to commit to. "When you're ready to play again, say you'll bring me to this place in real life."

A slow smile lit her face like a sunrise. "It's a deal."

Kathryn ended the program and they returned to her quarters. She held him close that night as they slept, afraid that the monsters of her nightmares would take not her again, but him.


	10. The little things give you away

Visions of her mother's caramel brownies danced in Kathryn's head.

She felt comforted by thoughts of her mother's voice, speaking in dulcet tones of inconsequential things. Home was a place where the decision between science and command would come easily, she told herself. There the painful memories of a cold and dark forest on a Cardassian outpost would evaporate with the morning haze on the cornfields. In her daydream, Justin would take the job on Earth, Starfleet would obligingly coordinate their schedules and they would live happily ever after.

In reality, she was a mess.

They were only three days from home and Justin still refused to talk about which posting he might take, giving no hint whether he'd made a decision. Both science and command seemed equally appealing when it came to her own career choices. Whenever she brought it up with Justin, though, he not-so-subtly nudged her towards command.

Yet these anxieties paled in comparison to the violent memories of grey-skinned figures that crept into Kathryn's mind every day since her rescue from the Cardassian outpost. She may have escaped the prison, but she struggled to escape her own mind. The afternoon's distraction was badly needed.

Kathryn arrived at the holodeck to see almost half the ship had turned out for the end-of-mission Parrises Squares tournament. She stepped up into the highest row of the bleachers as players took their places for the game. A group of women from ops sat in the row in front of her, chatting enthusiastically.

"Is this seat taken, Ensign?"

Kathryn looked up to see Commander T'Por.

"Please," Kathryn said, gesturing for the Commander to take the empty seat. It surprised Kathryn to see her; Parrises Squares was a vicious game. That didn't seem to be something that would interest a woman from a society known for its stoicism. T'Por sat.

"Do you have a prediction for the outcome of the match, Ensign?"

How unusual that T'Por was making small talk, Kathryn thought.

"Didn't think about it, I suppose. I'm just hoping for as few injuries for everyone involved as possible." She thought of Justin in his role as one of the shooters in the game, a position that combined offense and defense. When shooters couldn't score points, they aimed to maim. Injuries were a given. "Being Vulcan, I'd imagine Parrises Squares must look like something of a blood sport to you."

T'Por's response came as a surprise. "On the contrary. I understand it largely as a game of tactics and great physical agility. It is fascinating to watch. I wrote a number of papers on the strategic theory of this game during my time at the Academy."

Now Kathryn was curious. "Are you saying you're a fan?"

T'Por nodded. "Indeed. When emotion is removed from conflict, strategy and tactics remain as purely logical expressions of power struggles. They are exceptionally interesting fields to study and of value to any Federation officer."

If she hadn't known better, Kathryn would've said she was listening to Justin discuss his work, not talking to Commander T'Por about Parrises Squares. Well, everyone had a hobby. If Kathryn could enjoy ballet, she supposed a Vulcan could have a passion for Parrises Squares.

Their conversation came to a halt as the first quarter began. It was one of the fastest-paced games Kathryn had ever seen. Talking tactics with T'Por was interesting, but watching Justin's every muscle move in the tight protective suit the players wore was entrancing. Kathryn's attention was undivided.

The referee announced the second quarter and the match continued. "Who's the swoon-worthy shooter for the black team?" The woman in front of Kathryn asked her companions.

Kathryn's ears perked up.

"Swoon-worthy?" objected another woman, "Are you kidding? Lieutenant Tighe will just as soon take your head off as talk to you."

Kathryn snickered. The woman wasn't entirely wrong.

Just then, they watched as Justin hit the opposing team's passer, Sally Rhoades, in the stomach with his ion mallet, bringing her to her knees. Kathryn winced. Justin seized the opportunity to claim the ball and ran with it while Sally was still down.

"Okay," the woman in the row ahead of her said, sounding entirely uncomfortable. "I…see what you mean."

"Besides," another woman said, "I hear he's taken."

The group's conversation suddenly wasn't funny anymore.

"Seriously?" said the one who'd called out the finer points of Justin's personality. The crowd winced as Sally kicked her leg out and tripped Justin, who proceeded to fall face-first on the pyramid. Blood poured from his nose. Kathryn let out an involuntary gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. She was glad the crowd was too loud for them to have heard her.

"Yeah. He's dating Janeway."

Kathryn wished she could crawl under the deck plating. She was glad group of women hadn't noticed her when she'd taken her seat.

The group sat enraptured in the gossip as the first woman prattled on. "You know, that fresh-on-the-boat ensign in sensor diagnostics? She used to report to Tighe. Rumor has it she seduced him, Paris found out, and she got reassigned."

Kathryn's anger blistered. She rose to her feet, ready to defend herself from these blatant lies—

And sat right back down.

What was she going to say to them? _Oh, so there's this covert assignment you don't know our ship was on and Justin and I nearly died to save each others' lives while we were carrying out that mission and besides—isn't he gorgeous?_

Yeah, that wasn't going to work. But it was the next comment that made her mouth fall open.

"Who cares if he's got a lousy personality?" a fourth woman suggested wistfully. "It's not like you talk much during sex and with a body like that he's probably amazing in—"

"Officers."

Commander T'Por had spoken, addressing the row in front of them. Kathryn turned to her, thinking she was being scolded too, then quickly saw the Vulcan woman's gaze locked firmly on the four women in gold.

"Although this event is informal, you are in uniform," T'Por began, her tone perfectly measured and emotionless. "Speculating on personnel decisions is neither appropriate nor respectful and I suggest you reconsider your topic of conversation."

The quartet looked horrified. Kathryn could tell the instant the woman who started the gossip laid eyes on her, as the woman went pale and turned away. Kathryn noted with some satisfaction that the gold of the womens' uniforms clashed mightily with the red that their faces had turned.

"You may return to viewing the game," T'Por concluded. The group mumbled a series of apologies to Kathryn and T'Por.

"Thank you, Commander," Kathryn said quietly. T'Por nodded in return.

A cheer from the spectators around them drew Kathryn's attention back to the game. She saw Darren toss the ball to Justin and then tackle both opposing passers, barreling down ten steps of the pyramid into a heap of limbs. It was only after a buzzer went off that Kathryn saw Justin proudly holding his ion mallet in the air. Justin had scored the match point and the game was over. The room erupted in cheers and cries of dismay.

Darren stood up and dramatically dusted off his legs. The ops team's passers lay on the ground like humanoid bowling pins. Never would she have guessed that balding, skinny Darren was capable of such violence.

Kathryn watched the teams as they separated and shook hands. Both Justin and Darren went back to check on Sally. Sally clapped Justin on the shoulder. Kathryn noticed idly that the Parrises Squares uniforms looked eerily similar to the black body armor Justin had worn when he'd rescued her on Urtea II.

Sideswept by her memories, Kathryn felt herself braced against a tree on Urtea II. Heart pounding and chest heaving, she watched Justin retreat into the dark distance to rejoin the other Rangers to recover Admiral Paris. Panic threatened to overwhelm as her rescuers ran farther and farther away. The outlines of those bodies had been familiar, so familiar, but in the moment she hadn't thought to place names to body shapes.

Now she knew. The silhouettes were in front of her again, only this time their faces were clear. Darren and Sally were Rangers.

But a fourth figure darted across her memory. Tall and lithe, this person's movements were precise, measured and efficient like a dancer. Who was this person?

Commander T'Por's voice broke through Kathryn's memory. "I will be taking my leave." Kathryn looked up to see the Vulcan woman blinking at her. "I would hope you have a most pleasant evening, Ensign."

"You too, Commander." As her superior officer walked away, she couldn't help but notice the way the woman walked. Precise. Measured. Efficient. No, the Ranger didn't move like a dancer, Kathryn realized.

The Ranger moved like a Vulcan.

Kathryn's unexpected conversation with T'Por suddenly made sense. The Commander's interest in tactics and strategy wasn't purely academic. T'Por was a Ranger, too.

As she considered this, her first meeting on board came to mind. Kathryn now realized that the people Admiral Paris had briefed at that conference room table were T'Por, Sally, Darren, Justin and herself. Well aware that she was the most inexperienced officer on the ship, Kathryn had felt trusted, respected and even honored to have been included in a group privy to information of such importance to Starfleet.

That memory worried her. If Admiral Paris had singled Kathryn out and surrounded her with special ops soldiers from her first day on board, he'd done it for a good reason.

The question was, why?

"So what do you think, Kathryn?" a woman asked. "Could I make the major league when we get home?"

Sally stood in front of Kathryn, a towel around her neck. Darren was walking up the stairs behind her, Justin on his heels. The seats were half emptied.

"Huh?"

Sally looked at her with excitement. "How was the game, Kathryn?!"

Kathryn pulled herself together. "Amazing. But are you okay? You got hit pretty hard," she asked Sally, stalling while she tried to process what her mind had revealed.

Sally laughed, a broad smile on her dark face. "Oh, you mean getting whacked in the ribs by Tighe's ion mallet?" She waved dismissively. "I was on the Academy women's championship team two years running. I faked that fall."

Justin frowned. "Just glad you're okay," he responded. There was a compassion in his voice that spoke to a more familiar relationship than Kathryn had previously recognized. The ease with which they conversed—and indeed, always had, she realized now—spoke volumes. These three people were close, as close as a band of brothers.

She needed to talk to Justin. Alone.

#

Kathryn stood in the shower with Justin, inspecting his bruises and washing the final traces of blood off his face.

"Remind me never to play Parrises Squares with you," she muttered.

He ran his hand along the curve of her hip, his navy eyes smoldering as he smiled down at her. "I'd be gentle with _you_."

Kathryn ignored his innuendo and snatched the opportunity to get an answer to her questions. "You mean you'd be gentle with someone who's not a Ranger."

He blinked, momentarily stunned by her comment.

"Darren. Sally. T'Por. They're Rangers, aren't they?" she prodded.

Justin frowned. This was obviously not a conversation he wanted to have. "Kathryn, please don't waste your time guessing."

"I'm not guessing," she spat back. "I know what I saw."

Water splashed off the shower walls and he reached up, tenderly sweeping a thick lock of sopping wet hair off her forehead. His voice was devoid of emotion, his face expressionless. "Then why are you asking?"

Kathryn scowled, taking measure of the depths of her paranoia before diving in. "In our first meeting on board, Admiral Paris briefed you, me, T'Por, Sally and Darren. That means I was the only person being briefed who wasn't a Ranger. Why?"

Justin's lips formed a flat line. He seemed oblivious to the water that poured down on his head and dripped into his eyes. His hesitation told her that she was right.

Finally he asked, "What are you talking about?"

Was he stonewalling or outright manipulating her? Why wouldn't he answer her questions? It made her feel ill but she demanded to know. "I was the only one being briefed who wasn't a Ranger, wasn't I? I was the only one who was hearing for the first time that we were on a classified mission. Tell me why, Justin."

"Kathryn, stop guessing," he commanded, his voice still even-keeled. "If you want someone to confirm or deny whatever theory you've got, you're going to have to ask the one person on board with pips on both sides of his collar."

_Oh, you bet I plan to_, she swore to herself_._

The water continued to cascade onto Justin's head, streaming off his hair and splashing on his well-defined shoulders. For a long moment he didn't speak, didn't move, just blinked at her with those deep blue eyes.

What was he hiding?

At long last, he sighed deeply. "My group's work is need-to-know, Kathryn," he offered, addressing her unspoken worry about his honesty. "I love how curious you are, but the mission's over. It's not that I won't talk, it's that I can't talk. Please understand."

Growing up in a Starfleet family didn't make her the blue blood he seemed to think she was, but it did mean she respected orders. His platitudes infuriated her but she knew pressing her case would get her no further.

She nodded, defeated.

He kissed her forehead and pulled her in tightly, then shut off the water and handed her a towel.

"Can I give you something good to think about instead?" he asked, grabbing another towel and wrapping it around his waist.

"Such as?"

"I got a message before the game from Starfleet Command. Details came in for my debriefing. Specifically, schedules…and housing arrangements." She searched his face, trying to glean what he was getting at. "They gave me a full apartment on campus at the Academy for my time there. I know it's just two weeks, but stay with me. Please," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Part of his comment caught her by surprise. Why was he only staying for such a short time? And where was he going after that? "Wait. You're only staying for two weeks?" This wasn't good. She thought they'd have months to spend together before either one of them would have to ship out.

"My debriefing is only two weeks. Starfleet is in a hurry to get me on to my next assignment, whichever of the two I choose. Speaking of which, we need to talk. Not tonight, but tomorrow. I have a decision to make and I'm not going to sign my life away again without asking you first."

Sign his life away? "Does that mean you're going to—"

"Later," he interrupted, turning his back on her and walking out into the bedroom. She gritted her teeth at having been shut out again but followed him anyways. Justin opened a dresser drawer, handing Kathryn her clothes before he continued. "They gave me until we get home to decide and that's exactly what I plan to do."

"Bit of a power play, dragging them along like that, isn't it?"

He began to dress while he answered her. "Isn't that what Starfleet's doing, offering me a promotion with one job and not with the other?"

She considered it. It was rare for anyone to get choices about postings, let alone to be offered a promotion on condition. Justin clearly thought something seemed strange, too. What was going on here? "Yes, I suppose what they're doing is a bit of a power play."

She shrugged off her clothes and began slipping into her clothes. He eyed her appreciatively for a moment then looked her right in the eyes.

"So you'll stay with me?" Hope abounded in his voice.

Her earlier thoughts of caramel brownies hadn't been just idle fantasy. Kathryn _needed_ to go home. But she could hold out for two more weeks, right? If she and Justin only had two more weeks together before he shipped out again, she wanted to spend the time together.

Kathryn rested her hands on Justin's bare chest, taking a moment to revel in the power she felt in his muscles before she tilted her head up to look at him. She kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I'd love to."

He swooped her into an embrace so tight that her feet came off the ground. His arms squeezed the air out of her lungs for an instant before he set her back on her feet.

She looked up at him, confused. "What was that for?"

Taking her delicate hands, he held them tightly in his. "It feels like we're moving in."

"Justin, half my clothes live in your drawers. My books and my PADDs sit on your shelves. I'm pretty much already moved in. And it'll only be for two weeks," she reminded him, even as her smile mirrored his own.

"Maybe more than two weeks. Who knows?"

Knowing how many decisions stood between them and a full life together, Kathryn looked at him skeptically. "Since when do you get ahead of yourself, Lieutenant Tighe?"

He leaned in, stopping with his lips just a breath away from hers. His eyes-the one he'd been born with and the one he'd lost to their captors-lit with a fire she thought burned hot enough to keep her warm for the rest of her days.

"I've been getting ahead of myself ever since Ensign Janeway told me I could take my self-righteous bullshit and go to hell."

Before she could respond, he silenced her with a kiss, pulling her petite form against him. Her body responded immediately, rising into his embrace as her mouth explored his. As if he were a fine wine, she tasted him slowly and reverently. Before long they'd found their way back to his bed, her worries temporarily forgotten.

Later that evening Justin slept soundly but Kathryn lay awake. Questions flew across her mind like the warp stars in the window overhead.

Over and over again she played the memories of her rescue, making sure that the figures she'd seen belonged to the officers who had attended her first meeting on board. Each time she came to the conclusion that her memory was right. Knowing the Admiral, Owen wouldn't have introduced her to the Rangers unless he had expected that she would need to know them at some point on this mission. It dawned on her that he may have planned to take her on that mission all along.

But why take her of all people on an intelligence-gathering mission? The Rangers were better prepared to engage with the Cardassians. Any other member of the science staff would've been better prepared to retrieve the equipment. All of them had more field experience.

Not to mention, Kathryn herself had been something of a prize for their enemy, she realized with a start. How lucky it was they'd been rescued before the Cardassians discovered that like Admiral Paris, her father was also a high-ranking officer who was heavily involved in the cold war with the Cardassians.

A shiver shook her body.

It seemed entirely unlikely that Owen Paris would've believed any intelligence-gathering mission was without risk. And under those circumstances, taking her on one of those missions was _stupid_. And the idea that he led the mission? That idea was even more stupid.

None of it added up. Kathryn glanced over at Justin's sleeping form before lifting the covers off herself and quietly walking out to the living room. Taking a seat at his comconsole, she keyed in her activation code and began to tap out a message.

_From: Kathryn M. Janeway (ENS)_

_To: Owen T. Paris (ADM)_

_Admiral,_

_I have some questions about our mission on Urtea II that I believe only you can answer. They're not going to be easy questions, Sir. I apologize in advance for that. _

_And no, this can't wait until after debriefing. _

_Ensign Janeway _


	11. Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

The doors of Admiral Paris's ready room loomed large and Kathryn's hand hesitated over the access panel. Her stomach churned, her instincts telling her she shouldn't be questioning her commanding officer's decisions for the sake of her own curiosity.

Her instincts also told her that something had been very off about the Urtea II mission. She wasn't going to feel right until she got to the bottom of it. Kathryn tapped the chime and was let in.

Paris looked up from his desk console but didn't stand. He gestured for her to take a seat. A guarded expression settled on his face as she took her place in front of him.

"So, Ensign. What's got you so tied up in knots that you had to meet with me before we got home, even though we'll be back in a day?"

Her mouth went dry and it took effort to form the words she knew she had to say. "I've been thinking about our mission on Urtea II. And in light of your recommendation that I consider switching to command, I was hoping you could help me understand why you chose me for that mission."

He considered her for a moment before inclining his head and looking at her pointedly. "In other words, you've spent the last four weeks wondering why I picked you for an intelligence-gathering mission and now you've finally mustered the gumption to ask me why?"

As quick-minded as her old mentor was, it shouldn't have surprised her that he'd figured out the real reason for her visit. She dipped her head in reluctant acknowledgement. "Yes, sir."

A long sigh escaped his lips. "Given what happened, I'd be asking, too." His gaze fell on the table and his hand brushed across the glass as if to sweep away some invisible covering of dust before he looked back up and spoke, voice firm and resolute. "Ensign Janeway, as you're considering command, I'm prepared to give you answers. But I will tell you that I don't expect you're going to like my answers. So stay or go, Kathryn. The choice is up to you."

What was this, Alice in Wonderland? They both knew she was no shrinking violet. She forced the lump in her throat back down where it came from and answered him.

"I can handle it, Admiral."

He nodded somberly. "Federation intelligence said Urtea II was ours. You and I had research to complete. Absent this cold war, I would've taken you to help you build your skills in the field. My strategy was that we would avoid arousing the Cardassians' suspicions by sending scientists to our moon instead of a team of armed soldiers. The job of retrieving the array itself didn't require the Rangers. But when Lieutenant Tighe and I planned this mission, we knew we also had to consider what would happen if the intelligence that said the moon was ours, was wrong."

The bottom dropped out from under her. Justin hadn't just been involved in their rescue—he'd been involved in sending her to the moon in the first place.

He'd lied to her?

There wasn't time to even begin to digest his last comment because Admiral Paris leaned forward, steepling his hands on the desk, words now pouring from his mouth as if in confession. "I wasn't so concerned about what information might be given away by either one of us. The Cardassians don't torture in to gain intelligence. They know it produces unreliable information. No, you've learned, as Justin and I knew—they torture for sport. I was concerned about the fates of any hostages."

To Kathryn, that seemed all the more reason for him to have sent the Rangers. Justin had spoken of entire semesters spent learning to evade, resist, and escape enemy capture. Surely Admiral Paris had taken none of these courses. She herself didn't have that knowledge.

"If you were thinking about what would happen to whomever might be captured," she inquired cautiously, "Why did you go? Why didn't you send the Rangers?"

He gave her a palm-up gesture. His eyes, so distant and glassy since they had been rescued, became even more so. It was clear he didn't want to answer, but he obliged out of some sense of … what? Duty? Guilt? "If I had sent the Rangers and they'd been captured, they would have become mere playthings for the Cardassians to indulge their sadism. An anonymous enlisted officer had no value to them and would be killed outright. I knew the only people who would survive would have to be elite prisoners."

Her eyebrows rose and her stomach sank. Was Paris suggesting he'd gone precisely because of his rank? And how did that relate to her?

"Elite, sir?"

"Yes. People who the Cardassians might be willing to keep alive in order to trade in a prisoner exchange. I picked the two members of my crew who possessed a quality that might save their lives this way, yet could never be taken from them by force, coercion, or even torture. That quality happened to be my status as an influential member of Starfleet…and your relationship to one."

With each word her eyes opened wider. "Admiral, with all due respect, am I correct in understanding that the primary reason you chose me for that mission wasn't because I was capable of the work…but because I'm my father's daughter?"

His response was firm and unequivocal. "You are an Admiral's daughter. Yes."

She felt gutted. In all her achievements, all her work over the years—in spite of it all, she had still been reduced to nothing more than her last name.

Then she'd nearly died because of it.

Kathryn dug her fingernails into her palms. "Did you have me work exclusively with the Rangers because you knew I was going on this mission?"

Paris looked at her blankly.

"Commander T'Por, Ensign Rhoades, and Lieutenant Ditillo," Kathryn clarified. "I remember seeing them in the woods the night we were recovered. They and Lieutenant Tighe were the only individuals in addition to you at my first briefing on board."

Paris's lips pressed into a firm line.

"Having you work with that team was a compromise I made with Lieutenant Tighe," he answered reluctantly. "He wanted you to be fully informed, asked that I change your security clearance so he could brief you. No matter the Cardassians' rationale for torture, I felt it was still safest for you to know as little as possible. So we only briefed you generally. I suggested that we make a point of introducing you to the Rangers who would come to our aid if we needed it. That way you would be more inclined to trust them."

A tightness filled her chest as the terror of their daring escape flooded her mind as it so often had in the last weeks. Her muscles tensed as they had that night, remembering how desperately she'd struggled against the man who'd pulled her out of her cell. To know that man was her colleague—relief had flooded her veins. At least this particular decision of Admiral Paris's had not been entirely unwise.

"For what it's worth," Paris continued, "Lieutenant Tighe vocally opposed the entire mission from the start. When we started planning nine months ago, he didn't hesitate to tell me I was out of my mind. Using those exact words, in fact. I almost had to write him up for insubordination. It was…quite unlike Justin."

Kathryn tried to imagine the argument and quickly found that she couldn't. What had gone so wrong that Paris would ignore the advice of a respected Starfleet Ranger, or that Justin would outright insult an Admiral?

Paris absentmindedly reached up to touch the place on his neck where the Cardassian device had been implanted. Pain changes a person, Kathryn knew now, and the scars of torture could make it hard to recognize one's self sometimes.

She had her answer.

Kathryn bowed her head, gathering her anger like a garment she'd shed, packing it away to take with her. "Thank you for your honesty, sir."

Paris swallowed hard.

"That's not all, Ensign." He straightened in his seat and tugged his tunic into place. He reached into a desk drawer to pull out a PADD. He slid the object across the table to her. "We'd been planning on waiting until you finished debriefing, but in light of this conversation, I think it's more important that you have a chance to ask any questions you have." She felt her stomach tighten.

Hesitantly she reached for the device and began to scroll through it.

"Promotion to Lieutenant…Thank you, sir." This was wonderful, but Kathryn couldn't muster the strength to sound excited. It was hard to focus through the thick cloud of betrayal that hung between her and the man in front of her.

Paris's face remained unreadable. "Don't thank me yet. Keep reading."

Her eyes fell back on the PADD.

"Clearance level, top secret. Duty station, Starfleet Command, in the…" She read the next words and her head snapped up in confusion. "Signals Intelligence Division? I'm sorry, sir, is this the correct set of orders?"

He nodded. "Yes. You'll be doing much the same thing you did this year — developing sensor array modifications and processing data from our arrays. The difference is your research will be used for intelligence-gathering missions, Kathryn. You'll be on the team that provides all of our special operations divisions with much-needed information for planning their missions. That includes the Rangers."

Now she saw the connection, her mouth falling open before she could hide the horror on her face. "Was I being evaluated for this posting when you placed me with the Rangers at the start of this mission?"

Paris sighed. "No. Starfleet Command felt you displayed an exceptional comportment with the Rangers. Culture fit is very important and it's hard to find. The staffing teams thought you would be an excellent partner for them and the special operations divisions on the research and development side. You'll stay an enlisted science officer."

In name only, she thought bitterly. The career as an explorer that she'd spent years building—indeed, that Admiral Paris himself had helped her build—was now being yanked out from under her. Kathryn fought to keep her balance.

"Will I have ship duty?" she asked, clinging to this possibility like a shipwreck victim holds on to a life ring.

The Admiral shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. For your safety, they'll be keeping you planetside."

The life ring slipped from her fingers.

"For how long?" she asked, fighting to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"This posting is indefinite. Until the conflict with the Cardassians is resolved, this is where Starfleet Command feels it needs you. But there are plenty of advancement opportunities. And you'll get your own lab after a year. You'll be a full commander in five years. I know it's not what you envisioned, Kathryn. But when this ends, you'll be very well positioned to have any scientific career you want."

For once she didn't care about her career decades down the road. What she wanted now was gone.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Was this why you suggested command to me? To give me another option?" She searched his face, hoping the answer wouldn't be another disappointment.

"No," he responded, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. "I've been thinking along those lines for years. After hearing what you did for Lieutenant Tighe, I thought it was time to offer my letter of recommendation if you wanted it." He reached a hand towards hers but stopped before touching her fingers. "You've spent years studying nothing but compact halo objects. If I had realized that trying to protect you was going to halt that career right after you got it off the ground, I never would've done this. And that you suffered what our captors did to you...I'm terribly sorry, Kathryn. I'll keep trying to get you back to ship duty, at the very least. I promise."

The lump in her throat threatened speech. She managed a weak, "Thank you, sir."

He stood and extended his hand, indicating that he would see her out. She rose as well and they walked towards the door. The walk felt like a funeral procession; her scientific career as she knew it was dead on arrival. She didn't want to see him again for a long time.

Kathryn paused at the aperture. "He wouldn't have done it, you know."

Paris inclined his head inquisitively. "I'm sorry, Kathryn, I don't follow."

"My father," she explained. "He wouldn't have allowed Starfleet to give into our captors' demands in order to save his daughter. He's Starfleet to the core. My father would've let me die."

The Admiral straightened. "You know that. I know that. But I didn't think the Cardassians would."

With a tap on the keypad, he dismissed her from his office.

#

Kathryn's body hit the holographic floor with a thud. The impact burned mightily in her right hip and she was grateful for the painful distraction. She got back up and positioned her feet again.

"Computer, replay music, time index 2:30." She bent her knees into a gentle plie before rising on pointe. The muscles in her ankles were weak after weeks of not dancing. Her calves burned fiercely, her toes screaming under the unaccustomed pressure. It hurt, but somehow less than Admiral Paris's revelation. Kathryn wasn't sure what pained her more: that he had factored her 'Admiral's daughter' status into a decision, that her career in exploratory research was over—

Or that Justin had not only known about her mission all along, but also helped plan it? Memory upon memory of their work together filled her thoughts: every brush-off, criticism and callous comment. There had been plenty.

Now she wondered: Had those comments been off-handed, or intentional? Justin had claimed he'd pushed her away because he'd been 'too attracted to her.' It had struck her as absolutely ridiculous at the time, but she'd given him a pass because he'd tried to apologize.

Trying to take her mind off burning feelings of betrayal and instead focusing on the burning in her legs, she lifted her foot to step into a turn—

And fell again. She cried out, not noticing the holodeck doors hissing open as she hit the floor.

"Kathryn — what happened?"

Her head snapped up at the sound of Justin's voice. Kathryn didn't want to see him, but kicking him out was only going to delay the inevitable argument. Best to get it over with.

"I'm standing on my toes, Justin. I fell. It happens." She kneeled and made to stand up, but he joined her on the floor.

"Sit," he commanded. "We have to talk."

"Oh, really," she challenged. She wondered idly if the Admiral had betrayed yet another trust between them and told Justin about their conversation.

Sitting in his gold uniform directly across from her, legs crossed, he looked straight at her. "I haven't been candid with you. But it's not because I haven't wanted to be. Admiral Paris gave me permission to talk to you. I can be open and honest about this now."

So her mentor had betrayed another trust. Her anger rose still higher, like floodwaters approaching the edge of a dam. When was this going to be too much? She shifted on the floor and mirrored Justin's stance, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the thin skirt draped across her thighs. "Then I'll start. Before you even met me, you knew he was taking me on that mission. You knew why he was taking me."

"Yes."

The truth hurt, but at least she was finally hearing it. She plowed on. "He told me you fought him about taking me on that mission. Said he nearly had to write you up for insubordination about it."

"Yes."

"And you were under orders to stay quiet about it, I gather," Kathryn postulated.

"That too."

Well, at least that was good news. He hadn't been keeping the information from her by choice.

Justin inclined his head, his dark blue eyes holding her gaze with earnest. "I meant it when I called you 'Starfleet royalty.' I knew you were serving in body and blood. I wanted to tell you. I couldn't."

The lilting piano melody came to a halt. "Then tell me this," she demanded, her voice now echoing through the studio. "The first day we worked together, you were tough on me but I thought I'd gotten through to you. But then you stonewalled me until my rescue. It wasn't just because you had a thing for me, was it? It had something to do with that mission, didn't it?"

He looked at the floor before answering her, then speaking quietly as if embarrassed. "Rangers spend a lot of time learning to control our emotions. But it's easier to just never have emotions that need to be controlled. Too much attachment is dangerous. I reacted to you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I couldn't let you close to me."

During her meeting with Admiral Paris, Kathryn hadn't had the luxury of raising her voice, but now she was perfectly content to bellow as she dug into her argument.

"You mean you couldn't let you be close to me. There's a huge difference between treating me like a human being and getting close to me. You treated me terribly, Justin, and then blamed it on me being too attractive to you," she scoffed, her nostrils flaring. "I gave you a chance to prove you weren't really the obnoxious ass who suffocated my career that I thought you were. And now I find out that you treated me that way intentionally?"

His hands were balled into fists. "If you thought someone might be getting sent to slaughter and you couldn't do anything about it, would you let them get anywhere near your emotions?"

Her response was immediate and emphatic. "Yes! It's better to have loved and lost-"

"Try it." In his stern eyes, his set jaw, she knew he'd lost people he'd loved and it had cost him dearly, and she shrank back. "Listen. You were focused on your career. My mission was to make sure you lived to have a career. At that point in time, with the information I had, I thought pushing you away was the best way to make sure that would happen."

She was torn between her sympathy that he'd tried to protect himself-and her-for the sake of his duty, and still feeling furious at the way he'd gone about it. "It's bad enough that you couldn't be a professional about your emotions. That doesn't get you off the hook for the fact that you made your inability to control those emotions into my fault."

He guffawed. "Seriously, Kathryn? What part of admitting that for the first time in my life I wasn't strong enough to keep my head on straight around a woman is your fault?"

"The part where you wouldn't let me do my job because of it."

He crossed his arms. "Do you want me to tell you about what would've happened if I hadn't pushed you away like I did? Let's go back to that first day, shall we? You blushed like a Rainier cherry when you saw me, but I just about fell over when I laid eyes on you. I'd never felt anything like that before. That terrified me, Kathryn. That kind of mental lapse kills in my line of work. So I did everything I could to make you want nothing to do with me. I preferred you to hate me but come out alive than for you to like me but come back dead.

"And look what happened? My emotions did get in the way and we nearly got killed. If I had been thinking with my head and not my damned heart, I never would've broken my ankle, you never would've had to drag us into that swamp, and you wouldn't have had to charge a Cardassian trooper and a Toskanar dog. We would've just been out of there."

She blinked. "You say being in love with me nearly got us killed? You also said you lit a fire under yourself to get me out in the first place because you were in love with me." He glared back at her. "Or was that a false pretense of our relationship, too?"

He shook his head forcefully. "That was true. I really did get us there that fast because I was terrified of what they were doing to you. Commander T'Por will tell you. I was 'exceptionally motivated.'"

She relaxed slightly, but he wasn't off the hook just yet. "Let's not forget that you also blamed the way you treated me on your upbringing. You claimed you weren't used to working with others. You're a damned Ranger. You've spent the last few weeks explaining to me how 'the team' is everything. You lied to me, Justin."

His eyebrows rose. "Lab work in groups? I'd rather run a marathon every day, Kathryn. Nobody can keep up with me. I am hard to get along with outside of special ops. Darren's known me for a decade—ask him. I haven't been open with you but I did not lie to you about that."

She threw her hands in the air. "How exactly am I supposed to trust that our relationship isn't based on secrets, going forward?"

"Because you won't be in my chain of command. Your life won't be in my hands."

She dropped her chin and lowered her voice. "That's not what I'm being told."

A look of dismay crossed his face. "What are you saying?"

Her words were vitriolic and she spat them at him like weapons. "Oh, didn't Admiral Paris tell you that, too? They've got new orders ready and waiting for me, as soon as I can get through debriefing. As it turns out, I did such a fantastic job of getting along with the Rangers this year that they want me to keep working with the team."

One of her hands found her hip while she momentarily rubbed her forehead with the other.

"If I don't switch to command, I will be a science officer, assigned to the signals intelligence division," she continued. "If you stay with the Rangers, you'll be my peer. Though, not my supervisor again, I would imagine."

Justin stared at her, shocked and unblinking. "They're putting you where?" By his tone she could tell he knew exactly where she was going to be put. It was really more a question of why.

"Yes, Admiral Paris's efforts to keep me safe by surrounding me with Rangers evidently demonstrated…oh, what was it the orders said?" She looked up at the corner of the ceiling and frowned. "'An uncommon aptitude and experience for collaborative work within the special forces culture.' Evidently you all can be a little trying to work with, for most researchers."

She could see one corner of his lips twitch up just the slightest, then go right back to where it started.

"It's not a combat position, is it?" Justin asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

Kathryn shook her head.

"It's not a shipboard position at all," she explained. "I'm at headquarters for the foreseeable future. Whoever makes these orders has clearly learned their lesson that Rangers are the only ones who should be fiddling with anything on the Cardassian front lawn."

Others might have laughed at that comment, but Justin didn't move a muscle.

Kathryn wiped her face with her hand.

"My scientific career as I know it is over, Justin. I poured years into making myself a researcher. Then I find out that the man who helped me build that career is the one who accidentally laid the groundwork for Starfleet to end it. And now if I don't choose command, my only choice is espionage." She looked at him skeptically. "Now that I can get honest answers out of you, maybe I should ask this one once more. Why have you been interested in getting me to pursue command? Why really?"

He held her gaze. "The answer is the same it's always been. Do you really think I've been lying to you all this time about that, too?"

She clenched and unclenched her fists, finally turning her hands palms-up. "I don't know what to think anymore."

A long sigh escaped her lips and her gaze fell to her hands, now folded in her lap. This was a mess. Between the revelations from Admiral Paris and Justin, along with everything she'd endured on Urtea II, she was at a breaking point.

Kathryn looked back at Justin and spoke quietly. "I do know that between you and Admiral Paris today, I've had rather enough disappointment for quite a while."

His body stilled imperceptibly. This was a man who had made crisis response into a career, she remembered, and he spoke to her with a tense tranquility that reflected it. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I'm going home. I'll stay with my family when I'm not in debriefing. I'll reach out to you when I'm ready to talk."

For a few moments the only sound between them was their breathing. His face was emotionless as it so often was and it infuriated her. Kathryn wanted him to feel something—anything.

"I wanted us to talk about my next posting. I don't want to make that choice without you," he offered.

She stood. "Why not? You've made every other decision without thinking of me."  
Looking down at him, she could see anger flare in his eyes for the first time.

Justin stood, looking down at her once again. "Kathryn, give me a fair chance here."

"I will," she answered. "In a few weeks, when I've thought this all through. I'll be in touch."

In an about-face, she abruptly turned away from him and walked to the barre. He called out after her.

"Kathryn—"

She looked up in the mirrors that lined the walls and saw and him, still standing in the center of the studio, looking back at her. For a brief moment she thought she could see a sea of emotions in his eyes: confusion, fear, sadness, even grief. Kathryn turned to look at him, only to watch the emotional curtain descended once more on their show of wills. The quiet façade of the soldier she knew settled on his face once more.

"I'll see you when you're ready," he finished quietly. "Safe journey."

She nodded. "You too."

Without a glance back at him, she took hold of the barre, ordered the computer to resume the music, and rose up on to her toes again.

Author's notes:

Janeway's new orders and her role with the Rangers take inspiration from the real-life duties of U.S. Navy cryptographer Senior Chief Petty Officer Shannon Kent, one of the first women to serve alongside the traditionally all-male Navy SEALs. She was killed in action in 2019 and this chapter is dedicated to her. If you have a minute, I encourage you to read about google Shannon Kent and read about her remarkable life.

The title of this chapter is a lyric from the song, How to Save a Life, by The Fray.


	12. Ad Astra

Kathryn could hide in a book. There, Cardassians and manipulative mentors didn't exist. Complicated career choices didn't exist. And if she chose the right book, there wasn't a less-than-honest boyfriend to be found, either.

It was the place she'd retreated to every night in the three weeks she'd been home. Reading felt better than Starfleet's prescribed therapy, which so far had only served to give her a nasty case of insomnia and the occasional vague nightmare. So much for Starfleet's esteemed counselors .

The grandfather clock chimed three times in the darkness of her father's study, but it wasn't the clock that caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she could see a figure darting in and out of the shadows behind the house.

Kathryn put down the PADD and turned to look out the window. Who in the world would be wandering around the backyard at this hour of the morning? Her heart was hammering and she wasn't sure why. She searched the backyard with her eyes. She saw no one. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she was sure of it.

Then the back door clicked open.

Panic flared in her like fuel on a fire. The door creaked and then quietly snapped shut. Her parents were asleep upstairs and her sister wasn't due home from school for another day. Who was this person? What did they want? Maybe it was a mistake.

Or maybe it wasn't. Kathryn quickly scanned the room for something to use to defend herself, her eyes falling on her father's desk. It was where he kept his phaser and though she knew the weapon wouldn't function without his palm print, it might be enough to scare off an intruder. She hurried over and pulled the drawer open.

Floorboards creaked as the person moved in her direction. Kathryn snatched the weapon from the drawer and backed up against the wall of her father's study. Heart hammering, finger trembling over the useless trigger, she peered out of the room.

It was Phoebe.

Kathryn breathed an exasperated sigh as she flopped down on the couch. Phoebe must've come back early from school, though why she'd returned at three in the morning was anyone's guess. Kathryn's hand still gripped the phaser as she closed her eyes to rest for a moment.

Maybe it was time to get a new counselor.

#

Warm sunlight on Kathryn's face woke her. Kathryn smiled languidly as her eyes opened to see her father, clad in comfortable civilian clothes and sitting in a chair in front of her. He looked calm and content. How long had he been sitting there? Kathryn's gaze drifted to his hands, where he cradled a small grey object: his phaser.

Kathryn's smile vanished.

Her father held up his service weapon. "Looking for this?" he asked. Kathryn quickly got to her feet, ignoring the dull ache in her back that she'd earned from falling asleep on the couch. She raised her chin in a weak attempt to conceal how mortified she felt.

"I heard someone in the house last night," she explained. "I thought that an intruder would be scared off if they saw I had a weapon."

Her father's right eyebrow rose. "You were worried about an intruder but didn't use the tricorder on my desk to see if you were right, or who it was. Instead you went for the phaser that doesn't work unless it's in my hand?"

"I was acting on instinct." She watched as his lips formed a flat line.

"I take it you figured out it was your sister, coming home from an end-of-term party?" He walked around to his desk and gently returned the weapon to its drawer and gestured for her to return to the couch.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, taking her seat. He followed.

"I'm not your commanding officer, Kathryn, you can spare me the honorifcs. But I am one very concerned father right now. I was going to let you open up on your own terms, but you've been behaving like a frightened rabbit since you've been home." Worry creased his face. His interest in her well-being was no comfort. Instead she felt nervous, like he was about to lay down a gauntlet.

The elder Janeway dropped his chin and lowered his voice, looking at her with concern. "I'm not going to use my security clearance willy-nilly to find out what happened to you. I have no right to do that to soothe my parental worries. So I'm asking: Something bad happened on that mission, didn't it?"

Oh, he'd laid down the gauntlet, alright.

A lump formed in Kathryn's throat and she gazed out the window that had caused her so much trouble the night before. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Is talking better than me hypothesizing?" he asked. "Because right now what I know is that you're home six months early. You're literally looking over your shoulder when I meet you at Headquarters. And I've noticed you've started sleeping with a light on. When you're able to sleep," he added.

She turned back to look at him, anxiety and indecision causing her to wring her hands in her lap. The façade of the confident, fearless woman that she had always tried present to her father was cracking. Had cracked.

He folded his hands, his demeanor reminding Kathryn of a lawyer casually presenting evidence for trial. "Kathryn. Your ship was assigned to projects along the Cardassian border. You had special forces personnel on board, including your commanding officer. Lieutenant Commander Tighe, was it? If they were there, then I have to conclude that your ship was involved with the Cardassians. Directly. I don't like thinking that you were captured but that's where my thoughts have been headed."

Her eyes opened wide, caught off guard not by the second half of his comment, but by the first.

"I never told you Lieutenant Tighe was a special forces officer." In fact, she hadn't mentioned him at all since she'd been home. And why had he called him Lieutenant _Commander _Tighe? That would mean Justin had accepted the deep cover position. That couldn't be right. Justin had been sick just thinking about the idea.

"No. But you called me during your mission and mentioned that he was challenging to work with. You said it was nothing you didn't think you could handle. Comments like that usually mean you're struggling mightily." Kathryn frowned. She thought she had a better poker face than that. "I found out part of why you struggled with his leadership style this week, when he sent me a text communique."

Her head pulled back in surprise. Justin had contacted her father? Kathryn wanted to nail Justin to the wall.

"What did he want?" she asked mildly.

"Please stop deflecting, Goldenbird." Her father really wasn't going to let her go until she opened up to him. How much, though…

For a moment she covered her face with her hands, wishing he would just leave her alone. But that wasn't going to happen. There was only one choice.

"I'll tell you," she conceded, letting her hands fall to her sides. "But it matters to me personally, to know why Lieutenant Commander Tighe contacted you."

Her father looked at her curiously. "It was nothing to do with you. He needed information for a mission he was preparing for. How did what happened on your mission involve Lieutenant Commander Tighe?"

Instantly she felt lightheaded. It looked like Justin hadn't chosen the policy job after all. He was going behind enemy lines. Kathryn now perched anxiously on the edge of the couch. Was her father trying to blame Justin for how she'd been acting? She had to squelch the swell of anger in her chest and speak calmly. "Yes, he was involved, but not in the way you may think. Did he say when he was leaving?"

"No. Kathryn, please. I know you don't want help, but I can still support you. But I can't support you if you don't talk to me. "

Kathryn barely heard her father through the anxious thoughts that filled her head. Maybe she could catch Justin before he left. There might be time to say goodbye, to work things out or to end everything neatly.

Her father stared at her. Kathryn straightened.

"Lieutenant Tighe…Lieutenant _Commander _Tighe…we're involved. _Were _involved," she corrected. "We got involved after Admiral Paris and I became trapped on a planet the Cardassians annexed. He led the away mission to rescue us." Hopefully that sanitized version of the events would keep her father from worrying. Or prying.

A look of pure paternal concern flashed across her father's eyes. She thought she could see him start to reach out as if to embrace her before he decided against it. Instead he only spoke.

"God, I'm sorry, Kathryn. Is there anything I can do?"

She folded her hands, looking at the floor. Could he help? Did she want him to? Could he make Owen Paris her trustworthy mentor again? Or stop her heart from beating in terror at the fleeting sight of any large, pale man with dark hair before she realized they weren't Cardassian?

No. But there was something else he could do. Her eyes met her father's.

"You can let me go find out what happened to the man who saved my life. Now. And know that I'll sit down with you later and tell you about what happened."

His eyes searched hers, his lips pressed together so hard they were turning white. Then he walked over to his comconsole.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

She watched as he tapped away at the keypad. "I'm seeing if there's anything I'm allowed to tell you about where your friend might be." Kathryn was still blinking in surprise when he shut off the console moments later and turned to her, shaking his head. "Lieutenant Commander Tighe's mission began yesterday. Everything else is redacted. Even for me. "

Her stomach sank. "So he's gone."

Her father gave her a palms-up gesture. "Maybe. But only those directly involved in his mission can see those details." He tapped a PADD. "This is the address for the officers' quarters he was assigned to. It's still assigned to him." With an outstretched hand, he offered it to her. "It can't hurt to talk to the people he's spent the last few weeks with." Wide-eyed, she looked at the PADD, memorizing the address.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, then stood and made to leave the room.

"Oh, Kathryn?" She looked back at him expectantly. "If you do put things back together with this young man—when he gets back, tell him he's welcome to dinner."

A gentle smile crossed her face. With that she turned on her heel and walked out of her father's study, headed for the community transport center.

#

The sixth floor hallway of the officers' residence was empty. Kathryn stood in front of the doors and read the label:_ Officer Dormitory Apartment 8C. _She rang the chime. There was no response. She rang it again.

Nothing.

Her mind floated back to her last moments with Justin, watching his pained face in the mirror of the dance studio on the holodeck when she'd been angry he wasn't admitting the deep hurt he'd inflicted on her. But other images came back unbidden: strong arms that wrapped around her and kept her safe from nightmares of large soldiers with grey skin. Dark blue eyes that lit when she stepped out of her uniform. The broad smile before a laugh when she burned dinner for the third time in a week.

She rested her head against the door, inhaling her regret like smoke from a fire, when suddenly the door opened. Kathryn found herself falling and cried out, only to be caught by a pair of wiry arms in a blue uniform. Her eyes snapped up.

It was Darren Ditillo.

"Woah, easy, Janeway." Ditillo let her go and Kathryn righted herself. She smoothed her disheveled hair.

"Lieutenant Ditillo. Is Lieutenant Commander-"

"You mean Justin." Ditillo stepped back into the apartment and swept his arm out for her to enter. "Come inside, Kathryn. There's a lot we need to talk about."

The door hissed closed and he indicated for her to sit at the dining table. Darren walked to the replicator and requested two mugs of hot, black coffee. "You've saved me a trip," he offered casually, retrieving the beverages and bringing them to her. He took a seat opposite and nudged a mug in her direction. "Justin asked me to stop by his apartment to pick up something he wanted you to have. That's why I'm at his quarters."

Kathryn ignored her curiosity about what the 'something' was and focused on the reason she was there. "Can you tell me where he is?"

Darren shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. I can tell you he's on a mission."

"In Cardassian territory," Kathryn suggested.

"Yes."

She paled, her fears confirmed. Darren leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. "Kathryn, I can tell you're worried, but this is what the Rangers _do. _It's why we exist and it's what we train for. And Justin is very good at his job." Kathryn hid her frown of disbelief behind the coffee mug and took a long drag of the bitter liquid. "The question is, why are _you _here? Something tells me you two didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

How did he know? She put down the mug. "Either you're psychic, or the two of you are closer than I might have thought."

"We went to Ranger school together. Justin doesn't say much, but when I asked him how you were and he avoided the question, I had a feeling one of you had broken off your relationship." Darren reached into a concealed pocket in his uniform and produced an isolinear chip and offered it to her across the table. "He asked me to pick up this message for you and give it to you only if you contacted me about him. Which you now have."

Damn, the man was respecting her request for space even when he wasn't around to do it himself.

Darren added, "I don't know what's come to pass, Kathryn, but I can tell he wants to make it right."

She crossed her arms. "And what makes you think that?"

"I know he wants to come back from this mission _alive _."

She blinked, stunned. "Are you telling me he was suicidal on past missions?

Darren shook his head. "Not suicidal, no. But, until he met you, I've never known him to think he was anything more than _disposable _."

Her eyes opened wide. "Excuse me?"

Darren leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "In Ranger school, Justin wasn't there because he wanted to be 'the best that he could be.' He said he was there because he'd watched enough of his family and friends get killed in mining accidents that he wanted to have a worthwhile death. I thought it was morose as hell. It took me a long time to realize that, where he's from, getting to choose your own death is success."

Kathryn inclined her head in memory. "He told me something about that once. Said he couldn't be afraid of death to do what he did for a living."

"He didn't care if he lived or died. It made him fearless, one of the best of us."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed in confusion. "But you said he wanted to live. Why would he choose to go out on what sounds to me like a suicide mission?"

Darren's face became stone serious. "Because of what happened two years ago."

"When he was tortured?"

He shook his head. "That plays a role, sure. But there's a piece of his life you don't know about. He's not going to be happy I'm telling you, but until you know, I don't think you'll fully understand why he's such a challenge for most people to deal with. Apart from being a genius, that is."

Justin guarded his privacy fiercely and everyone around him knew it.

"Then maybe you shouldn't tell me," she suggested.

"No. He can kick my ass when he gets back. But I suspect he'll be kicking his own ass for the rest of his life if you walk away forever." Kathryn shot him a doubtful look.

But both she and Justin trusted the man in front of her. She would let Darren make the call.

"Alright, Darren. If you think it's for the best."

He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, his hands opening like a book. "I don't think it's the torture two years ago that Justin struggles with the most. I think he's struggling with the fact that every single person on his team was either captured, killed or injured, and they didn't even complete their mission. Justin was leading that team. After he was captured, his captain sent in dozens more officers to try to complete the job his team couldn't. They failed, too, and 21 more people died."

Kathryn could instantly sense the crushing weight of all those bodies. "And Justin blames himself for those losses."

Darren nodded. "The torture would've been bad enough for anyone to recover from, but Justin had a world-class case of survivor's guilt immediately thrown on top of it. Yet somehow it only seemed to make him stronger. After Starfleet Medical released him, he did everything he could to return to the front lines. He said he owed it to the ones who died to get back out there.

"So you have to understand, Justin is on a mission—literally—to try to make up for what went wrong two years ago. The policy job wouldn't have given him that chance and it would've killed him to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career. Not all at once, but a day at a time."

Now Justin's indecision was beginning to make sense. This was the reason a choice that sounded so simple to her had been so difficult for him.

A silence fell between them. Kathryn leaned back in her seat and wrapped her arms around herself as the puzzle pieces fell into place. "So this search for…redemption…that's why he took the mission on the _Icarus, _even with the chance he would face the Cardassians again? I don't see how protecting a junior science officer and an Admiral would help avenge the loss of his brothers and sisters in arms."

"You tell me. Or better yet, get him to tell you." Darren leaned back in his seat. "But either way, Justin would rather die than let a mission fail. Problems were inevitable when you became the mission."

Her eyebrow rose. Darren could see her confusion and explained. "For the first six months on the _Icarus _, it was his mission to make sure you came home alive. Also for the first six months on the _Icarus, _he treated you like an incompetent secretary. Coincidence? Admit it, Janeway. You don't need your Ph.D. to answer that question."

She looked away. At least least it was validating that Darren seemed incensed about how Justin had treated her, despite knowing all of the reasons.

"Kathryn, I could tell Justin was crazy about you from the start. Love can make the best of us stupid and distracted. He realized he was starting to feel something for you and he knew it could affect his judgment. Impaired judgment affects the mission. And when the woman you've fallen head over heels for _is _the mission? Oh, yeah, he felt he was in a bind."

Now she folded her arms on the table and scowled. "As he tried to tell me, it meant that I'm alive to complain about it."

"Did he ever apologize?"

She shifted in her seat. "Actually, that was…what we had our difference of opinion about. He made excuses. I asked for space."

"Don't get me wrong. Justin has excuses, some of which aren't very good. But he also has some that are." Darren made a broad, sweeping glance around the sterile room to indicate its contents, or lack thereof. "The Justin Tighe I knew didn't expect to come home from missions. It's why he keeps next to nothing in his quarters." He pointed to the chip in her hands. "But _that _Justin Tighe wants to live, because of you. Watch the message, Janeway. I'll go."

Darren stood and they exchanged goodbyes. Kathryn stared at the chip in her hands, standing in the silence of the room for a moment after the door closed. Then she walked over to Justin's desk and inserted the chip into the comconsole.

"Computer, play message."


End file.
